Sanctuary
by Eyeneversleep
Summary: Takes place right after episode 12. Nan Britton takes off with Margaret's children. Jimmy and Richard are sent on a mission to find them and bring them back. The two ex soldiers get to know each other and romance develops! Jimmy/Richard M for sex/lang/vio
1. It Takes an Ocean Not to Break

A/N: Although I did do some research I am not a history buff and I applogize for any inaccuracies! I know that Nan Britton didn't historically "kidnap" any children but she was obsessed with Warren Harding and even in the show they showcase her as being a bit "unstable". I took some liberties on that which fan fiction is in general so...*shrugs*

The title of this part comes from the song: "Terrible Love" by The National.

Please don't forget to review! I beg you! I need to know if you want more/want me to continue/did them good enough justice, etc! Thanks so much! :)

* * *

Sanctuary

Part 1: "It Takes an Ocean Not to Break"

_"You who do not remember_  
_passage from the other world_  
_I tell you I could speak again: whatever_  
_returns from oblivion returns_  
_to find a voice:_

_from the center of my life came_  
_a great fountain, deep blue_  
_shadows on azure seawater."_

-"The Wild Iris" by Louise Gluck

* * *

Jimmy walks the ocean like it's an old friend. The last shard of daylight is fading, black ocean like glass. He inhales smoke, the only thing he can do right. He can't do right by anybody. Everywhere he turns there are roadblocks. Ash falls to earth, mingles with sand to be washed away with the tide. He wanted a do over, a restart. He wanted to be taken in with the tide too, to be swept up, have something decent again. He doesn't have anything.

He inhales deeply, a shaky breath, trembling fingers and gulls are lazily drifting. He can't go home. He doesn't think he knows where that is anymore. He has no idea where his loyalties lie. The conversation between his father and Sheriff Thompson roll around in his head like heavy rocks. Not like sand, like Angela that slips through his fingers.

He closes his eyes and his fingers flex, feeling her phantom hair, the long, soft tendrils she used to have, now swept away just like the black tide. He throws his cigarette angrily to the beach, shoes shucking and sinking, slight chill working in his skin. He works the dying beach trying to drown out his thoughts.

He's not going home to her. Not like this. Maybe never. Not after they talked and she threw it back in his face. They were both unfaithful, living in fantasy worlds; he wanted a fresh start with her, to be a good father to their son and try to make it work. He skips a rock out to black waves and squints. He can't even see where the rocks lands. It's all too obscure.

He's still drunk. Too many ghosts in his head, too many words he needs to drown out, brain stretched out like its taffy they sell on the boardwalk, rolling around and around on metal pins, being impossibly pulled in too many directions. Have the tide take them all away. He's following his feet, back to somewhere or nowhere where he can just be. Somewhere he can just be quiet, still as a field in dawn, like the battlefield before the first shot is fired and talk if he feels like anything can come out.

Mrs. Schroeder's house, Nucky's place really, doesn't seem far if you're half in the bag but every foot fall and breath feels like a curse and there are brambles and thorns in his head, sand sticking to his shoes, suit, everywhere and he laughs. He stumbles up the couple steps and sits down hard on the porch step, new cigarette lit. He decides he'll watch the sun come up or pass out, whichever comes first.

He smokes and watches the moon glint off the rows of houses for a while and he feels a presence at his back. Three years in the war, been back for months and he's still hypersensitive to people's presences even when he's pissed drunk and wallowing but he's still mildly impressed at how silently he slipped onto the porch like grass swaying or leaves rustling. There but just barely. Richard also has his hand inside his jacket Jimmy knows without seeing him, feeling his new Colt M1903 that was tucked away inside-the same gun Jimmy used. Jimmy had helped him get the gun. It was actually one of the better moments in his life over the past few weeks. He didn't have to think, didn't have to strategize, pretend or worry he would end up with a knife in his back hypothetical or otherwise when they were doing something ordinary or mundane together. He didn't have to think with Richard. He didn't have to be anything.

Despite the new prize he kept close Richard was attached to his Enfield M1917 rifle with the scope. Jimmy could see Richard sleeping with it under his pillow he was so attached to the damn thing. The thought made him smile a little before he took another drag, inhaling deeply, smoke staining his lungs. He feels Richard shift a little on the wooden porch, like a moth's wing or smoke itself, a silent but deadly sentry standing guard.

"Do you want to sit?" He actually isn't turned off by the idea of his company, knowing he can choose to stay quiet if he wants to. Jimmy's eyes sweep the deserted roads, the silent houses, the empty vacuum of darkness, watching smoke curl impossibly upwards.

He hears wood creak and feels Richard's solid presence next to him a heartbeat later on the porch step. Richard's a man of few words and Jimmy likes this very much about the other man. He's not sure if it's because half his mouth is ruined or he's just that way but Jimmy realizes he doesn't care. In the political world he was swept up in all the big wigs ever did was talk. Jimmy was tired of talking. They sit in silence for a while and Jimmy feels he's cut through some of the tangles and snarls that were twisting his brain earlier-his mother, his father and Sheriff Thompson's conspiracies to take over Atlantic City, Nucky and Angela, the men he's killed and still needs to kill. It's all still there but it's quieted now. Alcohol and the silent world helping but something else too…

"Did you come here for protection? Hunh." Jimmy's used to his guttural, gruff voice and noises the other man makes from deep in the back of his throat like a nervous tick or the over exertion of his damaged windpipe and vocal chords-all things familiar and predictable but he isn't used to him trying to crack jokes. Jimmy eyes him for the first time that evening. Richard's face, at least the one half, is impassive as always-like showing too much emotion would give away that not all of his face is a mask. Jimmy can't really judge him for that. He's been told he has a stony face and cold eyes himself and he doesn't laugh enough. After the war, after what he saw and did he didn't have much to smile about.

Jimmy squints at the sharpshooter hitman sitting next to him, the man he roped into his madness. Now they're both pathetic fools being played by Nucky Thompson-the ringmaster pulling all the strings. Richard turns to him and meets his gaze head on, one eye looking over him curiously, glasses reflecting moonlight and smoke.

"I guess I kind of did. Protection from myself," Jimmy shakes his head a little in disgust, pinching at his tired, bleary eyes. He doesn't want to talk about it. "I claim sanctuary," Jimmy laughs a little, looking away.

"We know what sanctuary is for men like us. Hmm. It isn't here."

He sees Richard pull out his Colt from inside his jacket from the corner of his eye, a kerchief a heartbeat later. Jimmy flicks his cigarette to the ground and eyes the other man as he holds the gun with precious and precise care like it's his child, rubbing at it fondly with the kerchief to clean it. "This is our sanctuary," he swipes his thumb over the barrel protectively looking out to the silent streets. His masked side is closest to Jimmy. As many times as he's seen him wear it, almost feeling he's completely immune to it, he still can't help but think of different metaphors and similes to describe it-his Princeton days coming back to him.

Jimmy thinks he looks like a department store mannequin or Pinocchio in the moonlight, a figure made out of and carved from mans image and likeness, a figure running his fingers over his precious treasure just like the Tom Swift novel Richard gave him when they first met at the Vet hospital. But Richard doesn't have a Geppetto, a woodcarver or smith-he's his own man-offering up his protection and "sanctuary". Jimmy bites his tongue from the oncoming laugh that threatens to spill out, the whiskey really doing wonders on his already fucked up brain.

He smells burning leaves, the stale salt air and Richard's aftershave. The night is getting colder but he's content with sitting on the porch like he's a stranger. He's at peace with it.

"Ms. Britton and the children aren't here," he's not really asking a question but somehow he knows it's true. Just a gut feeling he has.

"No. Hmm. Ms. Britton took the children to a birthday party while, hungh, Mrs. Schroeder went to the party at Babette's."

It was late and no one was back yet. Jimmy thought this was a little strange but he couldn't bring himself to care and Richard didn't seem to either. Jimmy needed this-casual conversation and a solid presence that didn't need anything from him.

"Nightcap?" Richard's gruff voice half growls out, cutting through the semi darkness. His unexpected words are consumed by the night air and startles Jimmy a little. Jimmy pinches his eyes again a heartbeat later and laughs a little under his breath, liking that Richard picked up on his train of thought. He thought they both needed some company and Jimmy was more than willing to oblige and drink some of Nucky's squirreled away liquor in the process. He gets up, making sure to keep as much weight off his bad leg as he can. It still aches horribly at times but that was the least of his worries as of late. He watches Richard rise from the porch step, tucking the Colt and kerchief back in his tweed jacket carefully.

A man with half a face and a man with only one good leg. They were quite a pair. Jimmy stupidly pauses and lets Richard lead him inside like Jimmy's an honored guest, someone he's been expecting. He represses a snort. He isn't even totally welcome at his father's estate let alone Nucky's concubine's shack up. He isn't sure where he's welcome. He's amused and intrigued that Richard acts like the man of the house as he leads Jimmy around like he owns the place. Jimmy observes that the other man seems like he's at almost at home, touching things fondly, treading lightly.

"Hunh. I know where he keeps it."

"I can guess a few places."

They're in the warm kitchen. The house is still and quiet. He hears the clock ticking in the parlor, wind rattling the window. Jimmy removes his hat and jacket and rolls up his shirt sleeves. He sits at the round, worn kitchen table and watches Richard grope his hand underneath the sink, hears tape being removed, sees him fish out a bottle of bourbon. It's the same kind of bourbon they both drank when Jimmy took Richard to the whorehouse in Chicago for the first time. Having the same drink now seems significant and fitting somehow. Jimmy shakes his head to rid himself of the ridiculous thoughts. Richard's opening cabinets with fluid movements and ease, fishing out glasses. There almost seems to be a slight spring in his step as he darts around, his hands jittery and anxious and Jimmy almost thinks the other man must be lonely-cooped up in the house watching the Irish maiden and her children all the time. Jimmy would be driven to drink too, at least more so, if he only had the annoying woman and her children for company.

Richard pours them both generous portions with scary accuracy, something Jimmy's been meaning to ask him about but it can wait. When they both have their drinks Richard raises his glass his Jimmy, leaning up against the sink, a ghost of a smile on half of his face.

"Here's to finding sanctuary," he drawls out slowly. He maneuvers the straw into his half a mouth and drinks. Jimmy raises his glass to the toast and downs his in one shot like he's proving a point, his mind immediately reeling and the room slightly spinning as he rests the glass on the table.

They drink and talk little-Jimmy sitting and Richard leaning against the sink. When they do talk it's about the war-their one and only safe territory they've charted to for conversation. Jimmy wonders if ghosts can cancel out other ghosts. The war still weighs heavily on his mind but it keeps him from thinking about the other demons that are threatening to stir up something or take over completely. He'd rather relive the past right now then try to make sense of the future.

The wind rattles the pane, the clock ticks away, echoing through the empty rooms and suddenly they have new drinks in tow and are sitting in the parlor on the sofa.

Talk, drink, smoke and he's drifting off, being pulled underwater, under the tide that he wanted so desperately to be swept up in. The last thing he sees is Richard's face, his true face this time twisted up in what he thinks might be a smile. And then the black glass water encompasses him. No thoughts.

* * *

He moves about in a world stranger than fiction. The books his sister insists on sending him usually get used for kindling or he donates them to orphanages, placing the packages on the front stoop in the middle of the night, knowing the children would be too afraid of his face. He doesn't need books to be reminded that there are things out there that are unbelievable. He's living, breathing proof. He thinks he's grown to accept it. But it's still hard, still challenging when he wants to speak and he doesn't recognize his own voice and can't formulate the words quick enough with his damaged vocal chords. It proves difficult when he thinks he's used to seeing his face in the mirror but then someone gasps upon him entering a public place, young children snigger or avert their eyes, terrified or old people want to put their hands on his broad shoulders, shoulders of a man and not an object and bless him, say prayers for him because he's "misfortunate".

They stare, laugh, whisper, become squeamish, turn and run away but not him. His eye focuses on the sleeping form next to him. He's slumped into the corner of the sofa; head lolled back slightly, some blond hair in his face, arms gone slack, his waistcoat bunched up around his middle, riding up a little. His breath is deep and even. Richard thinks he looks almost peaceful.

_Sanctuary. _Richard thinks_. He found sanctuary from whatever was clearly troubling him earlier and maybe so have I. _

Richard had thought about the man, one James Darmody, and what he stood for a lot. The man that reached in and pulled him out from drowning, the tide taking him farther and farther out until he was just a tiny speak. He thought he lost himself completely. But Jimmy was there extending his hand, anchoring him to the shore because Richard was drifting. After the war and his accident he turned away from those who knew him-not wanting their pity and sympathy. He had gotten enough of it in the hospitals, from the doctors, from the nuns, from random strangers on the street who would come up to him and say that he was "in their thoughts and prayers", that and the difficulty to talk and reliving the details of the war made him feel he was going quite mad. His family couldn't see him that way. So he fled New York, traveling everywhere and nowhere, trying not to be seen.

He had taken odd jobs wherever he could. Working on farms, driving and running deliveries, janitorial work at various factories but no one would hire him full time and the jobs weren't what he wanted anyway. He felt at his new Colt in his jacket, the gun Jimmy helped him get. That was the kind of work he was always good at, what they made him good at. So he kept wandering, kept drifting. He wrote to his sister, kept a journal and wrote in that and poetry sometimes. He was always better at expressing himself in written word than spoken tongue even before his injury. He kept that to himself though. He left it as a secret for someone to uncover.

His eye roams over the sleeping form once more. The lamp's dim light bounces shadows over his pale face. Richard can't help but stare at his throat, so exposed and vulnerable. He knows Jimmy keeps a hidden knife in his boot. He knows also that Jimmy has used the knife to slit open one of the D'Alessio brother's throats. Richard can't help but notice how different Jimmy is when he's asleep, dead to the world. He looks calm, innocent, accepting. Richard doesn't like the feeling that he's exposed when he's asleep but the bourbon is working in his brain, his eyelid drooping. He removes his mask and glasses, watching a vein pulse in Jimmy's neck. The steady beat lulls him into a steadfast sleep.

He thankfully doesn't dream of Odette this time-a life he isn't allowed to have. He dreams of drifting out in the ocean instead, the black waves lapping at his form, obscuring him and a pale, strong hand that reaches for him and pulls him out.

His ears prick up to loud noises and a familiar accented woman's voice. His eye flutters open to faint morning light lazily filtering in through the curtain and he immediately ghosts his fingers around his Colt. He feels that there's a warm touch at his knee and it makes him pause. He turns his eye to the direction of the touch and sees that Jimmy has rested his hand there, presumably at some time during the night but the other man is still fast asleep next to him. Richard doesn't have time to decide if he likes or warrants the touch because raised voices echo closer through the house and this time the blond ex solider bolts awake, removing his hand quickly from Richard's knee. The two men share a look. There's defiance yet vulnerability, an almost boyish embarrassment on the other man's face, a little color peppering his normally alabaster skin. Jimmy breaks their gaze, clears his throat, smoothes his hair back, getting up quickly and adjusts his waistcoat.

"You better put it back on before she sees you," Jimmy's voice is still slightly thick with sleep yet gentle as he bends down to collect their glasses from the night before and exits the room with his usual limp to the direction of the kitchen. Richard had forgotten he had taken his mask off to sleep. Sometimes he forgot he wasn't wearing it with Jimmy since Jimmy's eyes showed no remorse, no abhorrer or pity when he saw Richard Harrow for the man he was-the man with half a face. Richard dons his mask and glasses quickly because Jimmy is right. Although Mrs. Schroeder and the children had warmed up to him considerably they still got frightened when they saw him without it on.

He pats his jacket to make sure the Colt is still there and gets up to join Jimmy in the kitchen. It's a cluster fuck of activity and loud, raised voices and Richard regrets his decision to enter after all.

Mr. Thompson is standing close to a defiant looking Jimmy. He's jabbing a finger in Jimmy's face, speaking too lowly for Richard to hear, his face twisted up in a snarl. Mrs. Schroeder is pacing the kitchen, hand on her forehead

"What do you mean you haven't seen her? Where are the children?" Mrs. Schroeder's voice is high and shrill. She seems to be talking to no one in particular until she spies Richard in the doorway and she stops pacing immediately and turns on him.

"You! Where did they go? You were supposed to be keep watch!" She marches right up to him, shaking with anger and fright. Richard is shocked. Ms. Britton took all the children to a birthday party but he wasn't told he was supposed to come with her nor what time they would return. When Jimmy showed up unexpectedly last night in his dashing fedora and matching suit, looking piss drunk and utterly broken on the porch it was late and Richard should have been concerned that Ms. Britton and the children weren't back yet. He could have phoned Mr. Thompson or Mrs. Schroeder at Babette's but the prospect of having someone around that just wanted his company was as intoxicating as the bourbon they drank. And it was Jimmy-the closest person to a friend Richard had. He couldn't shake the feeling that Jimmy needed him last night. Needed someone to help him forget. But Jimmy helped Richard forget too. So much so he nearly forgot himself.

"I don't know. Nungh."

He sees Mr. Thompson react to his words, like they've slapped him in the face and he breaks away from Jimmy and stands by Mrs. Schroeder's side. The two of them are a united front, both rounding on Richard.

"What do you mean you don't know? She hasn't come by at all?" Mr. Thompson's narrowed intense eyes bore holes into Richard and the combined stares of the couple make him want to sink into the floor. Richard can only shake his head a little, his eye lowering.

"You didn't phone us but you sure as fuck drank my bourbon with your friend here," Mr. Thompson jerks an angry thumb to Jimmy, his face twisted up in a scary scowl. Jimmy is standing, back to the wall nearest the window. Morning light is in his light hair and pale face, his arms crossed, his eyes to the floor, chewing on a thumb nail. Upon hearing Mr. Thompson's raised voice directed to Richard he propels himself off the wall, mouth a hard set line and stands by Richard's side.

"This isn't his fault. It was my idea to drink it. I told him you two probably wouldn't want to be interrupted at the party and honestly we thought she would be back any time," Jimmy's voice is surprisingly calm considering the charged energies in the room. "If you want to be angry with someone be angry with me."

Richard doesn't know why Jimmy is protecting him, taking the fall but he feels grateful but also bewildered and he wants to protest. Mr. Thompson is still huffing and puffing and has his arm around a trembling Mrs. Schroeder who looks like she can't decide if she wants to scream or cry. Jimmy and Richard share a small, knowing look. Jimmy's hard eyes are telling Richard to stay quiet.

Mr. Thompson and Jimmy are caught in a dead lock stare a heartbeat later, eyes narrowed, lips curling into vicious snarls. "I'll deal with you later. Right now we need to find Nan and the children. When's the last time you saw her?" Mr. Thompson directs the question to Richard yet he's still scowling at Jimmy.

Richard relays all that he knows-when he last saw Ms. Britton, where they went, anything that he thinks could help. Hours and many frantic phone calls later and still no one knows where Ms. Britton and the children are. Guilt, fear and remorse seep heavily into Richard but he still gets those sideways, dagger looks from Jimmy, silencing him. They all argue, point fingers, get angry, get frustrated, feel depressed and Mrs. Schroeder is besides herself. As if Mr. Thompson has exhausted all options and leads, which he has, he turns to the Irish woman, all soft eyes and gentle voice.

"You don't know why she would be doing this do you? You've spent the most time with her as of late."

Mrs. Schroeder bites her lip and lowers her eyes and the men in the room seem to pick up on her reaction and regard her curiously.

"Well. Lately she talks of Mr. Harding, President Harding now and when she would be joining him in the White House. I can't get her to talk about anything else. After she got the ring in the Halloween cake I made she seemed more closed off, spending more and more time by herself which was a bit unusual but I didn't think much of it."

Mr. Thompson rolls his eyes, shaking his head. He walks away from her a little, rubbing at his face like he's exhausted or exasperated.

"You didn't think this was important to mention?" Richard can tell that Mr. Thompson is trying hard not to explode, stress wearing everyone's nerves thin but his curt words still visibly sting Mrs. Schroeder none the less. She gets up from her chair and rounds on Mr. Thompson.

"She's behaved strangely since the moment I met her, obsessed with President Harding! Don't pin this on me. You're the one that thought it would be a good idea for her to stay with me and the children! You try living with her. She's insufferable at times and I try to tune her and constant mumblings about President Harding out!" They argue for a while and Richard can see the fear in both of their eyes despite their bickering. Everyone in the room is guilty of not paying close enough attention to the warning signs and now Ms. Britton was God knows where with the children.

Mr. Thompson is holding a crying Mrs. Schroeder a short time later and shoots the other two hitmen a look.

"I don't care how you do it or how long it takes but you need to find them and bring them back. Don't come back until you do."

* * *

Jimmy grabs his things and leaves at once without a word getting a startled and almost curious look from Richard. He's angry. Angry at himself for throwing caution to the wind, for focusing on himself and his needs for a change, for giving a damn and not seeing the bigger picture. He wanted the comfort of another person, wanted silent support but now everything's gone to shit because of their stupidity and President Harding's bat shit crazy mistress has gone missing with the Irish woman's children.

He's also angry at himself for not asking for a ride because the walk back to his apartment is long but it gives him a chance to blow off steam. His leg is aching horribly by the time he bursts through their apartment door. Tommy's playing on the floor and barely reacts to the noise of his arrival like he's oblivious to his father's presence. But Angela isn't and Jimmy doesn't want to talk to her. She pauses at her easel, paintbrush in hand and Jimmy can feel her curious eyes on him as he limps around their small apartment, ruffling Tommy's hair, throwing his jacket and hat off. He decides he needs to clean up and shave before he's catapulted back into the unknown and terrifying.

He slams the door to the bathroom shut and undresses quickly. The water from the basin feels marvelous on his skin as he cleans himself but his mind is still racing, playing out the things that happened the night before like he's going to the pictures-the film looping through his brain, the scenes coming alive in front of his eyes.

He fell asleep next to Richard on the sofa in the parlor, woke up with his hand on his knee protectively. Jimmy puts his face under the water trying to drown out the memory. They both were too caught up- the late night air, the warm kitchen, talk of the war and sanctuary, the bourbon, the pleasant company. And now look what happened. They had their guards down and now children were missing.

Jimmy pats his face with a towel and stares at himself in the mirror. His face isn't as haggard and bleary looking as the previous days and he realizes it's because he got a good night's sleep last night even from sleeping in an awkward position. He didn't dream about the war and the horrible things he saw when he was in the trenches. Jimmy didn't remembering dreaming at all last night and the pleasant thought stirs in his chest. He feels mystified and puzzled as he dries himself off. A light knock on the door breaks him out of his reverie. Angela pokes her head in without waiting to hear a response from Jimmy. She regards him standing in the small washroom with only a towel hung lowly on his hips, hair a mess, hanging in his eyes.

"What?" he growls out and turns back to the basin to wet his face again to shave.

He sees her in the mirror, sees her blink at him from the doorway, arms tight across her chest. He still isn't used to her cropped locks. She looks even more like a stranger now. Jimmy applies the shaving cream and turns to her when she doesn't answer.

"You didn't come home last night and now you're leaving again." Angela has picked up on Jimmy's habit of forming statements like a question. She looks frail and awkward as she stands, leaning up against the doorway Jimmy thinks as he smoothes the white shaving cream on his face. He turns his face back to the mirror, getting his razor.

"Yeah, I am," he swipes the shaving cream off his face in an angry stroke from the razor.

"Where are you going?" She sounds small and weak and Jimmy doesn't want to do this. Not now. Not ever.

After a couple more swipes from the razor he talks to her through the mirror, eyes on his face as he removes stubble from his chin.

"Why the fuck do you even care? You're only concerned that Nucky keeps paying me. Paying us. Well, I'm doing something for him. That's all you need to know." He observes her in the mirror, sees her look away, a little hurt touching her eyes. She removes herself slowly from the door frame, turns and he hears her footsteps echo away. Jimmy releases a breath he didn't know he was holding. He finishes shaving, cleans up, dresses quickly and starts packing. For some reason he can't help shake the feeling he's going to be away for a while. He imagines the black ocean like glass carrying him far away. But this time he's on a boat, rowing on top of the dark, glass ocean with Richard by his side and his thoughts quiet with the strange yet comforting image.

He kisses and ruffles Tommy's hair, grabs his jacket and heads to the door without a word but not before he notices Angela leaning, half hidden behind a wall, partially obscured in shadows looking like she's totally alone in the world. _That makes two of us_, he thinks before he slips out quietly, shutting the door behind.

* * *

Richard is leaning up against a car, waiting for him when Jimmy exits his apartment complex, cigarette burning in the late morning sun. Richard regards him when Jimmy approaches, bag slung over his shoulder, cigarette dangling from his lips. Jimmy's slightly surprised to see him but hides it well. He inhales deeply, exhales through his nose, squints at the older man.

"Didn't know you knew how to drive."

Richard shrugs a little, looking away. He meets Jimmy's eyes head on a heartbeat later, a little smile tugging at half his mouth.

"There's a lot. Hmm. You don't know about me."

Jimmy finds it hard to contain his slight smile, tries to hide it behind his cigarette as he takes another drag. He nods to the other man, throwing his bag into the back and climbs in. Richard relays what the "plan" is, told to him by Nucky, as he drives and Jimmy quickly learns there is no actual plan as no one knows where the stupid, crazy bitch went. They've been sent on a wild goose chase and Jimmy can't help but think its some master plan from Nucky again-wanting to send the two men away, get them out of his sight as he plots and schemes. Jimmy chews on his cigarette angrily, letting his head rest against the window and watches as scenery flies past him.

They drive mostly in silence. Richard drives well, exercising the same caution, precision and skill as with killing. And Richard's right, there's a lot that Jimmy doesn't know about the sharpshooter assassin-his partner in war and crime.

"Why did you do it?"

They were back in the car, driving on after stopping at a few places-stores and people's homes that they knew the mistress had been to and been acquainted with before but they got no leads. No one had seen her. They had scoured the boardwalk and hadn't come up with anything, not a scarp or trace of her trail. It was like the woman had vanished into thin air.

Richard's sudden question cuts through the silence and the now setting sun pouring in through the windshield. Jimmy feels his heart skip a beat at the question and he momentarily feels stunned. For a split second he isn't sure what Richard is referring to, thinking he's talking about why Jimmy was resting his hand on his knee. Jimmy could play dumb to the question but he realizes what Richard's asking as more coherent thoughts enter his brain and he can breathe again. They're going to be working alongside each other for a while and he supposes they should be honest with one another. His old habits from being a soldier come up to meet him and he thinks it may help them work better, more efficiently to find the woman and the children if they work together cooperatively as a team.

Jimmy lights a new cigarette with shaky fingers to buy himself a little more time. He looks out the window as he answers.

"Nucky already hates me anyway. We've been on the outs," Jimmy fiddles with the buttons on his jacket knowing he's circling around the question instead of answering it completely. And honestly Jimmy isn't one hundred percent sure why he chimed in, sticking his neck out for Richard. He feels like a hypocrite. He wants to be honest with the other man but he doesn't know how to be. He doesn't know exactly what to say.

"Hunh. You had my back. Hmm. Would have been easier to just let it go. Let Mr. Thompson be angry with me. Hmm. It was my fault."

Jimmy exhales, smoke and evening sun filling the car. "Everyone's at fault. We were all blindsided but Mrs. Schroeder should have told Nucky that she's one card short of a deck."

Richard makes a sound of either approval or laughter and Jimmy hopes that's the end of the discussion of why Jimmy was playing the hero.

"Thank you," and Richard is searching Jimmy's face as they've stopped to let another car pass through the otherwise deserted intersection. Jimmy squirms in his seat pretending he's very busy with his cigarette, staring straight ahead to the horizon. "Yeah. Sure. Don't mention it," he feels his cheeks burn a little and he's angry again and he isn't sure why this time.

* * *

They stop at a hotel. It's late and they were already too far from the boardwalk, their familiar part of New Jersey to go back and Jimmy kept complaining that they both were too tired to drive all the way back. So Richard agrees to stop at the first hotel they see.

He's reminded of a time when Jimmy took him to the whorehouse, his temporary residence in Chicago those months ago. The hotel has the same feeling and smell-sex, cigarettes, cheap perfume, broken promises, and wasted dreams. They get a queer look from the keeper as they approach, the woman's eyes widening and lingering on Richard's face. Jimmy requests two rooms. The woman asks if they have a reservation and Jimmy responds more in a rude way that they do not. Richard notes the growing irritation in Jimmy's voice as the woman checks the roster. "We're almost fully booked. Lots of people in town celebrating President Harding's win," her eyes scour the paper. "Looks like I have one room left though," her irritation matches Jimmy's almost perfectly.

"Fine. We'll take it," Jimmy drums his fingers impatiently on the desk as she searches for the correct key. Richard bristles at Jimmy's rash decision and his inability to consult with him, making the decision for both of them. They could have stayed a different hotel but as the money is being exchanged for the room Richard notices the slight slump of the other man's shoulders, his slightly red eyes, the bags under them and the slight twitch in his cheek. He's clearly exhausted and Richard feels his mounting irritation subside.

Jimmy grabs the key from the woman who's shooting them hard, disapproving looks and charges off, limping down the hall. Richard picks up his bag from the floor and stupidly follows after him. He meets up to him when Jimmy is opening the door to their room.

It has one bed of course. The room is bare and stripped to the basic essentials which Richard is actually quite used to being on his own for so long and sleeping where he could if he could. He thought living with Mrs. Schroeder for the past couple months was like living in the lap of luxury with a shower, running sinks and toilet, big warm bedroom with a soft bed.

The small bed in the room takes up a lot of space. The nightstand has a chamber pot and there's a basin with water on another low table with a mirror. Jimmy plops down his bag, unzips it and pulls out a bottle of bourbon. Richard thinks it might be the same pilfered bottle from Mr. Thompson's secret stash but he isn't sure. Jimmy has an odd expression on his face-somewhere between exhaustion, contenment and awkwardness.

"Nightcap?" he shoots Richard a sideways glance, a sloppy grin on his boyish face. Richard finds himself returning, or at least trying to return the smile, his lips not always cooperating with him. He figures he needs a drink though as the younger man can be totally unpredictable with his decisions and rash behavior and Richard figures they're in more danger if Jimmy's taking the lead-running on instinct instead of thinking sometimes. Jimmy unscrews the top taking a long drink, wiping his mouth on his shirt sleeve and hands the bottle to Richard. Jimmy's eyes go wide and he realizes his mistake when Richard doesn't take the bottle right away. "Oh shit. You need…" but Richard is unzipping his own bag and is taking out a straw. He's gotten used to carrying one with him just in cases like this. He takes the bottle from Jimmy, their fingertips brushing lightly, sending a feeling down Richard's spine. He puts in the straw and drinks heavily, the room feeling significantly warmer as the liquid travels down his damaged throat.

They take turns washing up, some sort of plan of action conceived in their sloshy brains. Jimmy is considerably more relaxed but still looks sleepy as they pass the bottle of bourbon back and forth. Jimmy says he'll sleep on the floor but Richard counters it wouldn't be good for his leg. They argue lightly, both of them sitting on the edge of the bed getting sloppy with drink. The decision is somehow made for them as Richard doesn't remember much after them arguing and then Jimmy telling him a story about a German soldier getting caught in the barb wires, having presumably passed out and then Richard feels softness underneath him, a solid presence at his back, soft snores echoing in the dark room and he can't bring himself to move. He removes his mask and glasses, makes sure the other man is covered underneath the blanket, places his hand on the other man's knee, returning the protective gesture, smiles into his pillow and drifts off to sleep with him next to him.


	2. I think I heard you sinning

Part 2: "I think I heard you sinning. We're together like a prayer…"

"A man takes his sadness down to the river and throws it in the river  
but then he's still left  
with the river. A man takes his sadness and throws it away  
but then he's still left with his hands."

-"Boot Theory" by Richard Siken

(Oh my god my kinks come out in this…) Sorry for the over-wordiness as well as I have been criticized for this before… I get carried away sometimes. Please don't forget to review!

* * *

There's a square patch of white light spilling out from the cheap curtains onto his face. The heat and the light make his nose twitch, eyelids flutter and his face turns away from it instinctively yet he still feels heat. He rolls onto his stomach, something he always does right before waking. He grumbles but smiles a little into his pillow, eyes still closed but he feels a presence next to him shift slightly. Jimmy's only reaction is to reach for the knife that's hidden in his boot and try to crack a sleep encrusted eye open. His body is lose and languid from the perfect night's sleep, his knee of his bad leg feels exceptionally good like he got a massage and he almost doesn't recognize his body and almost doesn't recognize the face that's missing an eye that's mere inches away from his own. He blinks at it like he's proving a point that he still has an eye to blink and his finger relaxes from around the knife in his boot.

His brain defrosts and his eyes wander over the other man's sensitive, purpling skin, the empty eye socket like a crater that erupted on the man's face, the large scars and deep lines that run from his left cheek all the way down to the one corner of his mouth. Half of his nose is disfigured and a little smaller on one side. He only has half a moustache. His black hair is rumpled, mussed, swept in his face and Jimmy thinks he looks so much younger without the mask and the glasses on which he suspects he doesn't really need. He doesn't look at all like a trained soldier or a killer. He's reaching his fingers out to touch but the other man is shifting again, his face turning towards him and suddenly he's staring at his brilliant brown eye and fuck, fuck, fuck. Jimmy doesn't know what he's doing and now that the other man is awake he wants to crawl out of the bed he supposed they shared the night before. Richard is regarding him curiously, openly, looking like he wants to say something and Jimmy can't do this. He throws back the blanket he doesn't remembering covering up with and half stumbles out of the small bed, his body much too lose and relaxed, his head aching from bourbon and shit he has nowhere to go.

He smoothes back his hair, pats his pockets absentmindedly with shaky fingers looking for his cigarettes, lighter, something, anything, his fingers wanting to be busy but getting distracted by Richard's steady gaze on him from the bed.

"I'm gonna get…" at first Jimmy can't think of how to finish his sentence. The air around him is too tight, too warm and his clothes are constricting him. "Coffee," he finally finishes and charges out of the room, his eyes lowered to the floor feeling Richard's heavy gaze following him as he does.

He rips the door open, closing it tightly shut behind him and Jimmy just stands behind the closed door and breathes, just breathes. He closes his eyes and he wills his heart to slow but it will not slow. _Fuck, fuck, fuck. _He keeps replaying it in his mind, an endless loop. Was he really reaching out to touch him? And then what? It's like hands on knees all over again. He imagines an ink pen horribly leaking dark liquid all over the thoughts blotting them out. They have to work together to find the crazy bitch, the stupid mistress and children were missing. They didn't have time to waste. But was it a waste of time? Jimmy shakes his head a little in disbelief and chuckles stupidly under his breath. _This is all so fucked up._

He lights a cigarette and goes and gets coffee because he really does want some, needs to phone Nucky, needs a distraction, however small it is to keep him from thinking of the impossible things that may or may not have just happened. He smiles around his cigarette and takes off in a desperate pursuit.

* * *

Richard lays on the small bed with the stiff, starched sheets and scratchy wool blanket, warm morning light filtering in through the cheap curtains and he outstretches a hand to the space that Jimmy occupied on the bed, its' strangely still warm, an impression still in the pillow but slowly rising, wanting to right itself. Course correction. Richard can only blink at it all wondering if it was all a sweet dream.

Jimmy's long porcelain fingers, the streaming digits of light were outstretched to his face, reaching for Richard gently but stop when Jimmy notices he's awake. Would Richard have let him touch? Touch such a private and intrusive thing? Richard feels frozen to his spot, afraid but willing himself to move, fingers rhythmically feeling for his Colt, something real. But Jimmy's touched that too. Richard closes his eye. There isn't much of his that Jimmy hasn't touched…

He gets up after a time, he isn't sure how long, strips to his undershirt and briefs, letting his suspenders drop to his sides, falls but braces himself with his strong arms before he meets the floor and does pushups. His face may be partially destroyed, his one eye completely gone and his speech affected but his body is still strong and he wants to keep it that way. He does them one armed for a time until he's breathing heavily, sweat forming at the back of his neck, beading on his trembling arms and back, staining his white undershirt. He loses count, exhausted and slumps to the dusty wooden floor to rest for a moment, breath heavy, smelling old things, sweat and Jimmy-his bag close to his face.

The space feels impossibly smaller without someone else occupying it like Richard is taking up negative space. He cleans up and changes, maneuvers his dog tags under his shirt once more. He just slips his suspenders over his shoulders and turns to the mirror to start his shave when he sees the door open. Jimmy breezes in, juggling two steaming mugs. Richard's chest tightens and he wants to help him but stops himself knowing Jimmy wouldn't want that. Jimmy seems different-his face impassive, movements authoritative and sure footed not like earlier when he seem flustered and was fumbling. But Richard likes this about Jimmy that he tries so hard to hide his emotions but when he can't it really shows-much like a child. Richard represses a small smile and as Jimmy averts his eyes the air is consumed with the notion that they're supposed to pretend nothing happened, his eyes deciding this for the room and really nothing did happen. Richard's chest tightens again surprisingly at the thought but he pushes it out of his mind a second later. They were on a mission, people were missing, namely children. Whatever they did it didn't matter in the grand scheme of things, the big picture. They were a single drop in a vast ocean, an insurmountable speck.

Jimmy hands him a mug of steaming coffee, his eyes lowered, mumbling something about the hotel staff being incompetent and useless. Richard can feel the heat coming off the younger man and the mug when he takes it, can smell the fresh tobacco smell in Jimmy's clothes. And surprisingly Jimmy stands close to him as they drink their coffee, blowing into mugs, moving steam around through pursed lips in the morning light from the curtains, glancing around the small space like there's more to see. Richard still isn't wearing his mask. He quite likes how free his face feels with the sun spilling on it. They don't speak. Jimmy smells like yesterday-like bourbon and the bed they shared and Richard smiles.

When they finish Richard turns back to the sink, wetting and assessing his face and sees Jimmy in the mirror turn to his bag on the floor and start to strip off his clothes, back turned to Richard. Richard lowers his eye respectfully, to give the man some privacy. He gives him a moment and when he chances looking back in the mirror Jimmy is still shirtless, all pale skin, light dusting of freckles and toned muscle in new slacks. Jimmy always wears suits and usually matching fedoras. Richard doesn't know if he's trying to prove a point but whatever the reason he always looks put together well. Richard wonders if he used to dress differently and for some reason he thinks he wants to see him in casual clothes. The suit Jimmy is donning is blue pinstripe and Richard knows it'll bring out his eyes. He wets his face again, water dripping off his disfigured nose and he dispenses Barbasol in his fingers. He looks down to find his razor and when he looks up again Jimmy is standing right next to him, still smelling like yesterday but donned in a perfect new suit and Richard's right it does bring out his piercing blue eyes.

Richard stares at him stupidly for a moment but in true Jimmy fashion the other man decides things for them and reaches over Richard without a word, lowers his face to the basin and splashes water on his fair face making it look even lighter. He takes the tube of Barbasol and squeezes the shaving cream into his long fingers without asking. They share the mirror but Jimmy has his own razor. They stand shoulder to shoulder-almost the same height and shave but Richard is watching Jimmy shave really and is making stupid mistakes, nicking his skin in the process.

He only has to shave the one side of his face as the other really doesn't grow hair anymore though the mask he wears has the painted on mustache. Sometimes he thinks about shaving his face completely so everything is even but he thinks his face will be too cold, to young looking like Jimmy's if he does. Jimmy lifts his chin up and removes the white cream, dangerously close to the fragile areas by his perfect throat. Richard knows of at least 50 ways to kill a man and again he's reminded of the military issued knife in Jimmy's boot and how easily he used it to kill, how easy it would be slash deep, have white and red run and bleed together, skin disconnecting, the colors becoming black, to extinguish the life in one swoop. That was back in the days of war when Richard needed to calculate how to kill a man to stay alive. Right now he was just a man trying to shave the one side of his face he had left standing next to a young man that was dressed too nicely making him feel small and unsure of himself as warm sunlight bathes them both as they try to concentrate on not killing themselves with their sharp razor blades.

Jimmy finishes first, almost too quickly, his normally pallid face is slightly red from razor burn and as he splashes water on his face to clean off the residual shaving cream he shudders like the water is soothing, his mouth a hard set line. Richard finishes shortly after and Jimmy is combing his hair with a small black comb, dabbing his fingers in the water and slicking it back, holding it in place. He eyes Richard after Richard pats his face with a towel. He invades Richard's space and their eyes meet briefly. Jimmy is wearing his familiar frown, his full lips almost in a pout. He smells of coffee, tobacco and clean things. His long digits reach for him, the pale fingers catch the light and Richard freezes, staring transfixed, thinking that Jimmy's going to touch his missing parts, the things he's lacking and missing. Jimmy's eyes concentrate on one spot and reach for his whole side, fingers gently touching, wiping missed shaving cream off the side of his face. He wipes his finger on the towel. "Missed a spot," and he's back to grooming himself, straightening his already perfect tie, his face looking newly flushed. Richard swallows hard and finds he can breathe again.

"I talked to Nucky just a little while ago," and Richard is brought tumbling back to the present. They aren't just two people sharing intimate space with one another, like they've known each other for years; they're on a mission and an important one at that. Richard nods at Jimmy's words.

"They still haven't heard anything. No one's seen her. Eli…Sheriff Thompson and his boys are out scouring the boardwalk too. They're trying not to get any other higher ups involved to keep it all under wraps," Jimmy shrugs, looking bored. He lights a cigarette, inhales deeply. Smoke swirls over the slow moving dust in the sunlight. "Understandable as Nucky's ass is on the line. He's the one that's supposed to keep the bitch out of sight. He wouldn't want his precious reputation ruined," his words are dipped with loathing and defiance and Richard is reminded of how broken and lost Jimmy looked the other night on the porch. He doesn't know Mr. Thompson and Jimmy's relationship very well but something happened between them recently. Again Richard feels he needs to lower his eye out of respect, to not look too closely or read too much between the lines so he just nods, keeping his eye to the dirty floor.

Richard is a little sad when Jimmy surprisingly makes the bed and they pack up and leave the room-leave the soap and shaving cream, their hair mixed together in the basin, piss in the chamber pot, their scents spread all over the starched white sheets. He can't help feeling that it's a start but also an ending like a chalk slash, a stain of time, a mark of something that cannot be repeated. They drink fresh coffee and eat in the hotel restaurant, still getting queer, disapproving looks from the staff at Jimmy's hard, defiant eyes and scowls and Richard's masked face. They eat toast and eggs, hungry from only having bourbon for dinner. Richard thinks they'll be having it a lot more and better get used to it-the way his stomach lining feels like it burns away, his throat sparking like a flint, memories turned into little bits of paper that burn and turn into ash in his brain.

Jimmy pulls out a wad of cash from his jacket to pay and Richard feels the patron's eyes on them again. Can't Jimmy be subtle about anything? Could he be subtle with his own heart? Richard watches birds collect on a low hanging dying branch outside, the glass pane fogging slightly from the warmth inside.

Jimmy dons his hat, pulling it lower over his eyes, slings his bag over his shoulder and waits for Richard to follow suit. He's always following him but he knows he always will. He pulled him out from drowning, gave him new meaning even if he didn't know for sure what that new meaning was. Richard was still finding that out just like he was finding Jimmy out, discovering him.

Jimmy drives this time, blue eyes burning and squinting in the morning sun and dusty roads are stretched out before them. They're sticking to their plan. They'll hit the train stations; ask around if anyone saw her and the children leave New Jersey. Their home front was being taken care of-Sheriff Thompson and the other police scouring the area. They needed to search outside their immediate area, their comfort zone, their bubble. Richard couldn't help but think that the two men were definitely outside their comfort zone. They were sitting right next to each other but they were miles and miles away.

They flash a picture of her; the one Mr. Thompson gave Richard before he left, to attendants, people behind the ticket counters, ticket takers, railroad officials, anyone that will look but no one knows her or has seen her.

"How far has she gone?" Jimmy asks no one in particular, hands clasped together between his knees, knuckles turning white as they take a break and rest on a bench inside the busy train station watching people bustle back and forth.

_How far will we go?_ Richard responds silently. They both know without telling the other that something is wrong. Someone would have seen her by now unless someone took her and the children, not wanting them to be seen. Will they keep looking though? They exchange a look as people hurriedly rush past them and Richard knows they'll keep up the desperate search because the search isn't just for Ms. Britton and the children, for Mr. Thompson and Mrs. Schroeder, it's for themselves as well. Unspoken but true.

"Let's get the fuck out of here." And they do.

* * *

He doesn't understand and he doesn't want to understand. Clouds are filling up, turning gray, rolling across the bleak, heavy sky. They're running out of places to look. Were they supposed to check sewers, check nunneries, check brothels? How far would one crazy woman and three small children go? But it wasn't just the three of them. Jimmy closes his eyes and inhales sharply through his nose. Someone was either helping them or forcing them and if Jimmy knows this then Richard knows this. They both are men of action, men of war and consequence. They know these things-when evil and destruction presents itself, rearing its ugly head. But they're good at turning a blind eye too. Jimmy glances to Richard in the driver's seat.

_"I'm what time and circumstance made me." _He told his father this once and he'll say it to the next person too. He'll justify his actions, his reasoning's but he didn't feel the need with Richard because they were the same in so many ways. Long stretches of silence can be between them just like the miles they still need to travel but he knows that Richard is ok with it-that they're both thinking of the war, the things they've seen, their fingers itching to pull triggers of hidden guns in their clothes, throw knives from boots all because they were trained to, desires planted. Their minds don't see dirt and rocks, blank open sky and ocean on either side of the road. They see enemies, mud stained with blood, trenches dug deep in the earth, bullets raining like hail. They don't hear waves crashing they hear gunfire, comrades crying and enemies shouting in a language they don't understand. They don't see each other they see what time and circumstance made them.

"Pull over. I gotta take a piss."

Richard nods; graying sky reflected in the glasses Jimmy is almost sure now the other man doesn't really need. Richard pulls over to the side of the road, tires crunching over rocks, kicking up dust.

The air is considerably colder and Jimmy wraps his coat around himself a little tighter. Wind whips at his face, almost blows off his hat. He walks a short distance from the car, unzips his slacks and does his business. He watches dark tumultuous waves crash angrily, slapping the sides of the road and he thinks of the time when the Commodore and his mother took him to the small island when he was a boy, rowing out with the ocean on either side of the small boat, it feeling like home and something occurs to Jimmy then, something they may have missed.

He finishes and meets Richard at the side of the car. Richard is leaning up against it, wiping at his Colt with a kerchief watching rapidly moving clouds cut across the sky.

"What if she wasn't taken or wanted to be with President Harding? What if she was home sick? Wanted to go back home?" Richard eyes him and nods a little.

"She was from Ohio."

"Fuck," because Jimmy doesn't want to go to Ohio and it's a long way and it still doesn't explain why she would have taken Mrs. Schroeder's children with her. He rights his hat, chews on a thumbnail and leans up against the car with Richard feeling defeated.

"What if she was…hmm….fleeing from something, someone? Took the children with her to protect them? Hungh," Richard turns to look at Jimmy.

"These are all possible…"

"But. Hmm. Someone else is involved," Richard finishes for him and they exchange a look. It was scary how they were both on the same wavelength sometimes. Jimmy swears under his breath some more knowing he needs to bounce these ideas off of Nucky wondering if they would be called off the wild goose chase but somehow hoping they wouldn't be. He still doesn't want to go to Ohio.

Both of them reach for the driver's side door handle at the same time a short time later, recoiling a breath later as warm skin grazes skin.

"Oh, I thought…"

"Did you want to…" they say at the same time. They both exchange a look and laugh a little. Richard's laugh is as gravely and distorted as his voice-a unique and precious sound. His eye crinkles at the corner and looks new. Again Jimmy is reminded that he doesn't understand anything and doesn't want to understand. The future is too clouded and unsure and the past is too scary and full of death. He guesses he's left with the present and right now he's laughing and it feels damn good. He hadn't laughed legitimately since maybe he first met Al before they went to Chicago together. Richard motions for Jimmy to take the wheel. Jimmy takes it happily, wanting some control when most things for him as of late were not.

Hours and miles pass, neither of them are exactly sure where they are going only knowing they'll stop to eat and at public places they ask around and flash her picture in hopes that anyone has seen her. But they don't so they drive on. Richard falls asleep in the passenger seat at one point, the sky black and cold. Sleep is tugging at Jimmy's eyelids, his bad leg getting stiff from being bent in one position for so long. They stop at a hotel. Jimmy nudges Richard awake. Richard reaches for his Colt but releases his hand from inside his jacket, his body relaxing when he notices its Jimmy.

They don't have any problems getting their own rooms this time and disappointment rolls through Jimmy at the thought of the nightmares coming back to haunt him as he sleeps alone tonight. He has a cigarette and tries not to think about it. He goes to the lobby and regrettably phones home. "Put Tommy on," he says to Angela by way of greeting. He has missed the little rugrat. Him and his mother may be on the outs but he still loved his son and wanted more children. But just not with Angela. Tommy mumbles into the phone, sounding confused. He wasn't used to the telephone they recently got. It feels good to hear his voice. He does talk to Angela a little bit but they don't get anywhere and she's frustrated he won't tell her where he is and he's just frustrated with her-too many reasons to count. He phones Nucky after that and thankfully the search isn't called off. All the theories he bounces off of Nucky are validated and he's told to keep checking train stations, boat yards, ferries, everywhere.

_They're planning to overthrow you_, he tells Nucky silently. _I may overthrow you, take what's yours but I'll keep looking. Maybe one day the tables will be turned and you'll be working for me…_

But that is the possible future and this is the present. Jimmy doesn't want to think about the future, not now. Right now he wants to get piss drunk.

He knocks on Richard's door a couple hours after they check in. Richard answers dressed in his undershirt and rumpled trousers, dog tags visible underneath the shirt. He didn't know Richard still wore his. Jimmy has his too though doesn't wear them but he wasn't sure why he still kept them.

"Did I wake you?" Jimmy had lost the suit coat and hat and was down to his white undershirt as well, the sleeves rolled up, trying to hide the bottle of bourbon in his pocket.

"No," but there was sleep stuck in the other man's throat. Jimmy narrows his eyes at him but shrugs. "I didn't want to drink alone but I'll let you sleep," but Richard is reaching for him saying: "No, no," opening the door for him at the same time. Jimmy slips inside. The covers of the bed are thrown off furthering Jimmy's suspicions that he was sleeping. The room is neat and orderly otherwise. Richard always struck Jimmy as a neat and organized person. They sit on the same side of the bed, passing the almost depleted bottle of bourbon back and forth, Richard using his straw.

They talk about the crazy bitch and their theories, trying to map out where they're heading. The bourbon's almost all gone, Richard's studying the bottle, playing with the label but Jimmy wants something else. He slips the dog tags from under Richard's shirt with a finger and Richard lets him. Jimmy scoots next to Richard on the bed, crowding his space, leaning towards him as he tries to read the imprinted words on the tags in the dim lamp light, his vision not cooperating with him. Richard's breath hitches in his throat, Jimmy smells the alcohol on it. Jimmy can't make heads or tails of any of it and laughs a little under his breath, the room slightly spinning. Richard leans in a little closer, their foreheads almost brushing.

"You kept yours too?"

"Yeah," he runs his thumb over the upraised letters on the silver tag, his voice betraying him with Richard's close proximity.

"Stay here?"

"Yeah," because Jimmy would be kidding himself if he didn't really want to to begin with even more so with his brain filled with bourbon and Richard's soft words. He was too afraid to ask, too afraid of the ghosts still inside him, haunting his dreams. The room is impossibly warm, Richard's breath expelling on his face, intoxicating him more. Jimmy tucks the dog tags back behind Richard's shirt and pats his slacks feebly for his cigarettes.

"Left pocket," Richard instructs him and helps him when Jimmy can't remember his left from his right, the air around him too warm and tight. Richard puts a cigarette in Jimmy's mouth and lights it for him, sweeps a thumb over the corner of his mouth and lingers for a moment and Jimmy can't breathe, almost losing his cigarette at the warm gesture.

Richard helps him take off his boots, feeling the knife Jimmy has there and unclasps it. Jimmy smokes and watches Richard unsheathe the knife, holds it in the dim lamp light, running his fingers all over it protectively and Jimmy shivers. He wants to kiss him.

"Hmm. How many?"

Jimmy takes a long drag. Richard is looking at the knife, holding it this way and that, light playing off it.

"I don't know," but Jimmy knows. He knows how many lives he took with it and it alone. How could he forget?

Richard just glares at him through the dim light and smoke.

"Thirty-two,"

Richard eyes him and there's something there-a reassurance, a knowing look.

Jimmy exhales smoke. "Thirty-three. I forgot about the D'Alessio prick," he laughs a little and reaches to take the knife from Richard and he still wants to kiss him. Richard pushes him back playfully and because Jimmy isn't expecting it and bourbon has taken over he falls back into the bed, cigarette still dangling from his mouth.

"Sleep," Richard sheathes the knife, reaches over Jimmy and puts it on the table, takes his cigarette and extinguishes it in the ashtray and turns off the light. Jimmy grabs at him for payback and sends him headfirst on the bed, toppling Jimmy, both men are grunting yet chuckling and Jimmy can't get his bearings because it's dark and the room is still spinning. Richard maneuvers next to him, practically climbing over him.

"Sleep," Richard says again but Jimmy's eyes have adjusted somewhat to the soft moonlight coming in through the window and he finds Richard's mouth, kissing him quickly, silencing him. His mask his off and he feels his strange lips though they are soft and full. Richard pushes him away though he's breathing hard and they're so close he can feel Richard's rapid heartbeat through his thin shirt. "You're drunk. Just sleep," though his voice is weaker in the dark and Jimmy can swear he can hear his smile.

They're facing each other on the small bed. Jimmy feels Richard's hot breath on his face.

"I want…" Jimmy trails off and his cheeks flush. He hasn't had a want in a long time. He thought he wanted Pearl but that was an escape. He thought he wanted Angela but that was a backfired do over. He looks over at the dim silhouette next to him on the bed. He thinks this may be the same thing. But it's not…

"I know. Hmm," Richard places a warm hand on Jimmy's knee and Jimmy feels himself sinking further into the soft bed.

"I know," he hears Richard say again in the dark but Jimmy is already fast approaching sleep. He feels the other man's body so close as he drifts off and blissfully has no dreams.

* * *

Jimmy slips out of Richard's room before the older man wakes but not before he watches him a little, his breath deep and even, sunlight playing off his heavy scars, dark hair falling in his face, curling at the ends. Jimmy's head hurts like fucking hell but his body still feels smooth as silk, his leg never better and he has to resist doing some things to thank the other man. He gathers up his boots and knife and creeps out of the room silently.

Jimmy only knocks on his door an hour later to get breakfast. Jimmy can tell Richard's in a mood and they haven't even spoken yet. He only gets curt, clipped responses from him when Jimmy asks questions and Jimmy doesn't push it. It could be a lot of things and really Jimmy doesn't want to talk about his drunken behavior, the choices they made. Richard's eyes want to ask but Jimmy shoots him dagger looks that shuts him up. They need some sort of partnership and trust if they are going to work together to find the mistress and the children and that's all they need.

They walk outside and the air is chilled and silent. Snow is falling lazily and collects on everything, blanketing the once familiar world. Jimmy thinks it's beautiful. He smiles a little, closing his eyes and stretching his arms out to his sides feeling the freezing world around him, it slowly burying him. He wanted a fresh start. He thinks the unexpected snow will help.

Richard still won't say anything while they drive which is normally how they drive anyway but its grating on Jimmy's nerves and almost good mood. He watches snow fly past his window and his mind wanders, thinks about knives, soldiers, hands on knees, kisses in the dark and no bad dreams. He rests his head on frosted glass, fogs it with his warm breath and swirls designs on the fogged window feeling like Angela with her painting. He gets a curious look from Richard as he drives but nothing more.

They're moving steadily northward. They stop at the docks; the snow dissolves on the gray sea, tied up boats knocking at the pier. No one's seen her. Another train station and they get their first lead. A woman that sells tickets thinks she might have seen Ms. Britton but she can't be sure. No one else recognizes her picture. Jimmy doesn't know if it's even worth mentioning to Nucky when he'll call him later and still Richard has barely spoken two words to him all day.

They stop at the ferry and Jimmy isn't surprised that no one recognizes her picture or can recall seeing her. The car decides to die on their way back. Jimmy knows they have enough gas in it but neither man knows much about automobiles-they were too busy off fighting a war. In Jimmy's case he also had a son and in Richard's case he got half his face blown off. They didn't have time for their fathers to show them the ins and outs of how a car worked. Jimmy swears until he's red in the face and Richard looks surlier than ever and still he won't say a word even as Jimmy kicks the piece of shit and spits on it angrily for deciding to stop working when it's snowing out and both of them are cold and in the middle of fucking nowhere. They grab their bags and start walking. Jimmy hopes they happen upon a Good Samaritan that will stop for them. He's not below hitchhiking. He would love to bounce the idea off of Richard but the sharpshooter assassin is content on chewing on silence and anger and watching the sky turn darker and darker, their boots leaving impressions in fresh snow.

They walk and it seems miserably long especially since the only company Jimmy has is the breath he's expelling, the crunch his boots make on the snow and the white world all around him. His bad leg is starting to stiffen from the cold and ache from the trek. It's getting late and they haven't seen any cars-everyone too afraid to go out in bad weather he supposes. He smokes to create more heat, to have something to do and tries not to feel miserable. Just as he's starting to think he can't take anymore he hears it-the unmistakable sound of steam hissing. It was a train. He glances at Richard and he hears it too-his dark eye going wide. They pick up their pace and see that the freight train has stopped. There's no station in sight so he figures they were stopping for repairs or to load something. Again Jimmy would like to ask Richard what he thinks they should do but he decides for them and as they approach closer the train starts to take off. Jimmy sees a partially open door to one of the train cars and jogs up to it, sliding it open even more. The train picks up speed and Jimmy limps as fast as he can to throw his bag inside and hop up onto the train car a second later, stumbling inside. He whirls around and panic grips him when he doesn't see the other man right away. He glances through the door and behind and sees Richard a little ways off, jogging to catch up. Jimmy motions for him to hurry up. The train picks up more speed and Richard has to run and Jimmy is almost terrified that Richard won't make it. Jimmy reaches out a hand and Richard is so close, there's a little fear on Richard's face too but he sprints and reaches out for Jimmy's hand and miraculously he helps heft the older man up and inside-both of them tumbling into the dark train car as it jerks and sways over the tracks, Richard landing on top of him.

And it's like they're back in the dark hotel room but instead this time there's no alcohol or talk of war. Richard is straddling him and Jimmy can't think and it's too dark for him to see but he can hear. Can hear their labored breathing and his own blood pounding behind his ears. "Thank you," Richard mumbles and his face is so close. Jimmy swallows hard and nods stupidly like Richard can see him but no sound comes out of his mouth-like their roles are reversed and Jimmy's the one that isn't talking.

Richard gets up after a time, releasing Jimmy from the prison of long, warm limbs. How much time passes Jimmy isn't sure. He hears him shuffle over to one of the walls of the train car and sits. Jimmy pats his pockets for his lighter, finds it and flicks it on. He squints at the sudden light and swivels the lighter over to Richard's direction. The other man is sitting against the train car wall, his knees drawn up, his clothes damp and rumpled from snow and from falling into a moving train car. He looks around the train car and sees it's loaded with bags of what he guesses is wheat, barely or some other crop. He doesn't see anything useful they could use for a makeshift torch so he limps over to Richard and pops a squat next to him. Richard is glancing to the direction of the faint light and snow coming in from the partially open train car door. Jimmy feels the car gently sway, hears the metal clacking, the distant sound of the whistle. He likes the sounds. Would like it even more if he could hear Richard too.

"What?" Jimmy blurts out because he's tired of the other man not speaking and they're alone in a fucking train car and there's nowhere to go and nothing to do and he feels he might go insane if he has to sit alone in the dark and silence any longer. Richard eyes him in the faint light from the lighter.

"What did I do?" Jimmy clarifies when Richard doesn't respond. He hears metal screech on the tracks beneath them, the wheels clacking in rhythm.

"Just…say something, Jesus," Jimmy lights a cigarette and extinguishes the light to preserve it, it won't last forever and they may need it later. They sit side by side in the dark. Jimmy thumps his head against the cold metal of the car wall exhaling angrily.

"You don't…hmm, want to talk about it anyway," Richard's gruff voice cuts through the darkness, startling Jimmy. Jimmy turns to him and can barely make him out in the small patch of moonlight that's spilling in from the partially open door. "Talk about what?" Jimmy watches the cigarette burn-the only other light source waiting for Richard to respond.

"You know what. Now that you're sober, hmph, you don't have the courage to say. Hmm."

"So I'm a coward now?"

"Yes, hmph,"

"Fuck you," he almost wishes Richard will revert to not talking again but at the same time he doesn't. Even though they're arguing he's glad for the company. He wouldn't want to be stuck on a dark train going to nowhere alone.

"No, Jimmy. Fuck you."

Jimmy whips his head to Richard's direction feeling like he's been slapped. He's never heard Richard use his first name before or swear, never heard him so angry before. It's almost too much for Jimmy to absorb. He's too stunned to come up with a retort. He can only rub at his forehead and watch his cigarette slowly burn.

"Hmph. Fuck you for only taking me out when you need me. Hmm. And really. Hmm. You don't. You're just using me, messing with me."

Richard's words slice through him like the knife he keeps in his boot and again he feels stunned.

"You think…hmph, you can get drunk and do whatever you like. Hmm. But people's emotions are involved. Alcohol or otherwise. Hgnh. I wanted to talk to you about it. Hmm. But you won't. But you decide everything and I let you. Hmph. But not this. If you won't talk about it…hmph… then I just won't speak. Hmm. Because that's what you isn't it? You're a selfish child…"

"Ok! Enough!" Jimmy shouts, cutting him off, his raised voice echoes largely through the train car. "If I'm so terrible, so selfish then you can fucking leave! I can finish this on my own. Fuck," he rubs at his temple, extinguishing his now wasted cigarette and chews on his anger.

"Fine. I will. Hmm. At the next stop."

"We don't even know where this train is going…"

"Hmm. Doesn't matter."

Jimmy grits his teeth and Jesus fuck he's angry and he isn't sure who he's angrier with-himself or Richard. And he still doesn't know exactly what he did or didn't do to elicit this kind of reaction from the other man but that was a lie. They sit next to each other in the dark swaying train car and neither of them moves and Jimmy isn't sure why. He gets used to the rhythmic motion of the train, it almost lulling him to sleep, almost. The train screeches to a halt suddenly and Jimmy can barely register what's happening and then Richard is standing up. Jimmy can hear him grab his bag and oh shit he's really leaving. Words of protest die in Jimmy's throat and Richard is pulling the train car door open wider and is slipping into the moonlight and snow, his dark silhouette disappearing and the train is still barely inching along.

Jimmy scrambles to his feet because he feels he should do something but what he isn't sure. He limps over to the still open door and sees they're pulling into a station. Snow flies in from the door and his body is racked with shivers. Relief washes over Jimmy. It's a station they've been to before and he can easily get a cab and use their phone to call Nucky. That relief is replaced by wide eyed terror as he watches rapidly falling snow and sees Richard cross over the last of the tracks and makes his way to the platform. Jimmy can see two men huddled together lying in wait and in shadow on the otherwise deserted platform watching Richard from above closely and the intentions on their faces are as clear as day. Jimmy has seen that look before. It's too late and there aren't any passenger trains pulling in. It's a setup.

He's grabbing his bag, reaching for his gun and is leaping from the train in one fluid movement. He lands awkwardly and his bad leg flares with white hot pain, the breath knocked out of him, making him pause. The snow is obscuring the scene slightly but he sees the men approaching closer, hands in their jackets as Richard is taking the platform steps hurriedly and Richard doesn't see them. Everything seems to happen in slow motion. Jimmy scrambles up on the slippery ground, bag forgotten, trying hard to not focus on the pain in his leg, aiming his gun at the men. "Richard!" he screams and he doesn't know if it's detrimental or helpful as Richard's head, hair full of snow, whips to Jimmy's direction and Richard is pulling out his Colt in a blink of an eye, the two men rounding on him, their own guns out now as the scene has been called out for what it is, no more need for secrecy.

A shot is fired but it happens to quick for Jimmy to register and the snow is making it harder to see but he thinks it was Richard shooting. Shots are returned back but Richard dodges them, pressing his body tightly against the wall of the stairs. Jimmy is limping towards them on snow covered tracks, his leg on fire. He fires but misses the first time but the second shot gets one of the men in the shoulder but it doesn't bring him down. And Jimmy knows these are button men and possibly ex military just like Richard and Jimmy and the situation just got more real, more dangerous.

Shots are fired at Jimmy but he hardly notices. He's too focused on how Richard is trapped in an awkward position-halfway on the stairs without any real cover with the men shooting at them from on top of the platform. But Richard is holding his own-his movements are fluid like water, his aim good and Jimmy thinks he's never seen him more alive. Jimmy approaches the stairs and he thinks he might be bleeding but its dark and it's snowing, the train clanking behind him, his mind and leg are on fire and he needs to back Richard up. Richard is reloading his Colt and one of the enemy button men takes that opportunity to rush him, heading down the stairs, gun pointed at Richard's face.

_He already lost one half of his face you motherfucker_, Jimmy thinks as he grabs his knife from inside his boot and throws it at the man, it stabbing right through his throat like a pin in a pin cushion. Red flies and sprinkles the white ground and the man makes a pathetic gurgling noise before he slumps over face first as snow swirls all around. Jimmy is right next to Richard on the stairs now, standing shoulder to shoulder with him and Richard shoots him a look as he finishes reloading his Colt and Jimmy knows Richard won't be leaving now. He's saved his life too many times no matter how angry he may be with him.

"Thirty-four," Jimmy says with a smile and Richard smiles back and his look reads appreciation, awe, disbelief, hunger and possibly a little fear. Richard eyes Jimmy's jacket that he knows is stained with blood. But he doesn't have time to finish the thought as the man that Jimmy shot in the shoulder earlier is still on top of the stairs, ducking behind a wall for cover, shooting at them. He couldn't come at them guns blazing like the other man they have to have an old fashioned shoot out and Jimmy grins despite the pain that's engulfing his body and the shit storm they're in and Richard is shoving him against the stair wall as bullets hail down, exploding the wooden steps around them.

"Cover me," Richard growls out, shooting Jimmy a look and Jimmy wants to protest but again Richard's eye flicks to Jimmy's phantom injury and Jimmy nods, reloading his smoking Colt. They wait till there's a pause of enemy gun fire and Richard bolts up the stairs. Jimmy catapults off the wall and shoots in the direction of where the button man is hiding. He moves up the stairs slowly, the icy wall at his back, fresh blood making the stairs slipperier, snow cutting across everything. He steps over the other fallen button man, his crumpled body in a pool of blood and snow. Jimmy hears shots but they aren't directed at him and he limps feebly up the rest of the stairs and it's getting harder to move, his body betraying him. He gets to the top of the stairs, still shooting for cover and sees Richard approach the area where the enemy has been hiding from the opposite direction. He can see more clearly as the platform has an overhang and protects them from the rapidly falling snow. Jimmy shoots until his fingers ache and his arm trembles and the enemy shoots back at him but misses but he isn't sure as his body hurts too much and Jimmy hopes he's providing enough of a distraction. He sees Richard creep around the wall and out of sight, hears a shot and a scream and Jimmy can barely move but somehow he meets Richard around the wall and the button man has a fresh bullet wound in his shoulder, kneeling on the ground and Richard has the button man's gun and is training both guns on him. Jimmy trains his gun on the enemy's head too and he knows he has one bullet left, just enough. Richard shoots him a look.

"Sit down. You're bleeding. Hmph. We need him alive. Need to know who sent them. Hmm." And Richard is right. He's glad he's back; that they're working together again because Richard kept them on track and was always the thinker, Jimmy the doer. But right now Jimmy can't do much of anything so he sits, his battered body totally betraying him. He leans his back against a wall, his body splayed out and watches Richard interrogate.

"Who sent you?" Richard's all hard eyes and even gruffer voice with two guns trained on the man on the ground. The button man with two matching leaking bullet wounds in his shoulders just laughs, breath raspy.

"Go to hell," the man says, his body shaking with pathetic laughter, cold or just pain and Richard smacks him hard across the face with his Colt. The crack echoes loudly and sickeningly in the small space and the man slumps over on his side, clutching his face, blood dripping from his broken mouth. The man is groaning and Jimmy's eyes are wide. Jimmy leans forward and new heat ignites in his chest and it's not from possible injuries. It's from watching Richard like this-so hard and strong, not taking shit and Jimmy feels strange but also special he gets to see Richard like this since so many write him off as being too quiet, meek and mild and he is normally under his killer interior…

"Hmm. Who sent you? Say or you're going to die," Richard watches, guns trained as the man is still lying on the ground, spitting blood and teeth out. His hard eyes find Richard, shooting him the coldest look that even Jimmy can make out in the gloom.

"No," he rasps out, spitting a wad of blood out. "You're mistaken…you two are going to die," he coughs up blood, his body racked with tremors. "You have no idea who you're up against," he laughs pathetically and Richard is grabbing at the man's collar, getting right in his face and growls something low and deep. He sticks his gun right underneath the man's chin, near his Adam's apple making the man's head shoot up and despite the button man's high talk his eyes flash with fear in the semi darkness.

"You have thirty seconds."

The man laughs, his head lolling back, blood leaking everywhere. "They have her…the children too."

"Hmm. Where?" Richard shouts right in the man's face, shaking him a little. The laughs the man makes become groans and coughs. "You'll never find them," his mouth dribbles blood. "Just kill me. If you don't they will. I'm already dead," he laughs again, his head lolling back in a frightening way.

"How long have you been, hmph, following us?" Richard digs the barrel deeper into the man's blood encrusted throat. The man winches. "For a while. Picked up your trail after you left the hotel…" he rasps out and Jimmy knows he's dying, losing too much blood and Jimmy is too, the room is spinning.

"Richard," he breathes out gently, a warning and a plea. Richard shoots him a look and he's the old Richard with his warm eye, the gentle Richard that watches over Irish women and children and offers nightcaps and takes off boots, not the hardened assassin and interrogator that only knows duty and wants to kill. Jimmy's hands shake as he searches for his cigarettes. He might as well have a smoke before he dies.

"Left pocket," Richard's voice is smooth and gentle and Jimmy is glad he isn't mad at him anymore. Jimmy meets his eye after he finally finds his pack, fishes out a cigarette and lights it with much fumbling. Richard nods at Jimmy and there's concern in his eye but he turns his attention back to the button man he's still holding and it turns hard again. "Last chance. Who sent you? Where are they? Hmm."

The man laughs but it's gargled with blood and dying breaths. "Gonna have to…kill me…" More shouts and threats later and still the man won't talk. Richard won't be able to get it out of him. They don't have enough time. Richard releases him sending the man backwards in the pool of his own blood and filth.

"You two are so fucked," the man laughs and Richard gets up and shoots Jimmy a look and Jimmy's seen that look in the war too many times and they're sharing slow, murderous smiles .

"Can I kill him now?" his mouth around his cigarette, their gaze never breaking and Richard nods.

"Yes, you can kill him now."

Jimmy lifts his Colt that he was still holding pathetically in his hand at his side the whole time, aims and unloads his last bullet in a clean shot to the man's head. Richard is moving quickly, searching the dead man, pulling out pieces of paper with sketches and profiles of Jimmy and Richard out of his blood stained pocket, takes his wallet but finds little else. He helps Jimmy up even though Jimmy protests but Richard won't let him argue. He supports him as they make their way to retrieve Jimmy's knife from the other man's throat and Richard's bag. Richard searches the other man and doesn't find much either but pockets his meager processions. He leans Jimmy against a wall and runs and grabs Jimmy's bag still on the snow covered tracks and Jimmy's eye lids are drooping. He's very tired all of a sudden.

Richard's on him again, supporting him, practically dragging him with both bags over his shoulder, his coat stained with the dead man's blood and snow. They find the button men's car. Richard helps Jimmy in and Jimmy wants to sleep. Richard slaps at his face, still standing outside. "Not yet, need your help. Hmph. Where are you shot?" Richard's warm, blood smeared hands are on him, unbuttoning his jacket and Jimmy thinks the question is absurd but he faintly thinks he probably was shot at while he was limping across the train tracks but his body hurts too much to know. Richard's unbuttoning his waistcoat, moving away cloth and he makes a hissing noise through his teeth. He feels Richard's fingers ghost over his chest, a short distance from his collarbone, near his shoulder and Jimmy cries out because fuck it hurts.

"Went clean through," Richard eyes him, his face so close and Richard turns to his bag, snow still flying all around. Jimmy hears a ripping sound and Richard is wrapping one of his shirts around his wound tightly making Jimmy's eyes tear up with pain. His body only knows pain and Richard's gentle touch and he's so tired again. He slumps forward in the seat, Richard catching him and they're too close. Jimmy kisses the one side of Richard's mouth because fuck they almost died and he almost left and maybe Jimmy is dying now and Richard was so spectacular and he's losing blood but Richard doesn't pull away and almost kisses him back. He rights Jimmy in the seat, his half a face flushed and he shakes his snowy head. "You have the worst timing. Sleep now."

Jimmy can't keep his eyes off of Richard as he smiles warmly, snow flying all around him as he sweeps his blood encrusted thumb over the corner of Jimmy's mouth and Jimmy smiles back, his eyelids fluttering and then he can't remember anything as darkness and snow swallows him up.

* * *

Light is spilling in his eyes and they hurt, everything hurts. He chances opening them and sees snow falling steadily across the fogged window-it already crusted with snow. He touches at his chest and feels a new proper bandage there under a fresh shirt. His eyes sweep the unfamiliar room all clean and stark white save for a wooden cross hanging high on one wall like a reminder. His eyes stop at Richard's bent over position at a desk in the corner of the small room. His dark hair is mussed and he's wearing his white undershirt and dark slacks. There's a bottle of half full bourbon on the desk with his Colt and Jimmy's knife resting right next to it. Richard must sense that Jimmy's awake because Richard turns slowly in his chair to meet him. His mask and glasses are off and he breathes in slowly through his disfigured nose.

"Hmm. You're finally awake. Been sleeping for nearly three days…"

Jimmy chances moving and it burns but he's able to bring himself to a sitting position though the room is spinning slightly and his throat is dry.

"Where are we?"

Richard claps his hands between his knees and looks about the room. "We're near New York now. Ngh. Ditched the car that first night after we got a good, hmm, distance away. Stuck to the woods. We had to keep moving. Didn't know how many more were out there, hmm, still out there looking for us. Wasn't safe to stay at a hotel. Hmph. Met an old Polish woman while we made camp. It was her backyard," Richard smiles. "Hmm. I told her we were wandering ministers and that you got injured in a hunting accident. Hmm. She offered to have us stay. It's safe here. I only was able to call Mr. Thompson, hmm, once. The woman doesn't have a telephone. Told him what happened. Hmph. The men were from New York I found by going through their things. Mr. Thompson says to go there, hmm, when you're well enough."

Jimmy looks around the small, too white room with the dark cross hanging on the wall, the snow falling steadily outside the window. His eyes rest on Richard with his black hair in his eyes and his day old stubble.

"The old woman is very trusting, very religious. Hmm. She says my face will heal because I'm doing God's work."

Jimmy eyes him carefully. "Do you believe her?"

Richard reaches over on the desk and fingers his Colt.

"Hmm. I've done too many horrendous things to be owed any favors….going to continue to do horrendous, unspeakable things." Richard meets his eyes slowly and there's a look there and its hungry and deep and his words stir in Jimmy's chest, gives him the strength to stand yet it's difficult. Richard is at his side in two quick strides from his long legs supporting him but lingering.

"You look the very, hmm, opposite of me," he touches his blond hair faintly, runs a thumb over his fair eyebrow like he's claiming him. He's only an inch taller and he supposes only a year older but he seems significantly younger with only his undershirt, his dark hair a mess and his true face exposed to him, ugly but only to those who don't know him. He's anything but horrendous. But Jimmy doesn't really know him either. Jimmy isn't sure of much when Richard's touching him and saying things like that. Richard's thumb tenderly circles his cheek and his brown eye is warm and Jimmy knows he's going to kiss him but how he's not sure.

"May have to help me do these unspeakable things, hungh," his thumb sweeps his bottom lip, seals it with his own lips in the lightest of kisses a heartbeat later and Jimmy's closing his eyes, hands on the other man's forearms anchoring him feeling the room spin, like he could float away like the dust filtering in with the golden light of the room. Jimmy tucks some hair behind Richard's ear getting a smile from the other man. It's easier to tell when's he's smiling without the mask on. He touches at the scars and angry lines that riddle the one half of his face and Richard meets his hand slowly, breathing deep. Jimmy brushes their noses together, their lips a heartbeat later and Richard is surprisingly responsive, meeting his mouth feebly. Jimmy smiles against him and tries a different tactic. He focuses on the one half of his mouth which is more difficult but strangely erotic and Richard kisses him back with more need and suddenly his warm tongue is in his mouth and Jimmy groans into him, wonderfully pleased that there isn't anything wrong with the older man's tongue. Richard massages Jimmy's tongue with his own like he had done to his leg all those nights ago while he was sleeping-something he didn't admit to himself until just now and Jimmy's growing impossibly hard for his man. He tangles his fingers in his dog tags. The whole thing is insane as the cross is watching them from its position on the wall in the old religious woman's house but he needs this.

"You're skin…"Richard trails off as he presses his nose into Jimmy's cheek, inhaling deeply, his fingertips are lightly grazing his neck and Jimmy winds a hand in his thick hair, pulling a little and Richard grazes his soft lips to his sensitive neck, trailing his fantastic tongue over it a second later making him shiver just like when Richard was running his fingers over his knife. Jimmy moves his hands to Richard's hips and plays with the hem of his undershirt as Richard grazes his teeth over the pale skin of his neck. Richard gets the hint after a moment and reluctantly removes himself from Jimmy so that Jimmy can pull Richard's shirt off over his head and toss it to the floor. Richard just stands there with his exposed face and chest like he's letting Jimmy get used to seeing him. Jimmy runs his fingertips over his muscular frame surprised he doesn't see any scars or disfigurements. His skin is blemish free save for a light dusting of black hair across his chest trailing down to his navel and beyond. Jimmy rests his hands on his hips again and feels some heat flood his cheeks.

"Just like that," Richard growls lowly and he's pinning Jimmy to the wall, between his long, muscular thighs that seem to go on for days in his six foot frame, encroaching Jimmy's dangerous territory. Jimmy captures Richard's mouth to silence him and clings to him in the white spinning room with the dark cross staining the wall.

* * *

Richard moves his thigh, inching his knee a little bit higher, closer to Jimmy's growing erection getting a satisfactory groan and eyelid flutter from the younger man, him digging his fingernails into Richard's bare arms getting a shiver of pleasure from Richard. He fingers the hem of Jimmy's undershirt and Jimmy's face erupts in a sloppy, broken grin and he lifts his arms up, wincing as Richard releases him of his shirt. He runs his fingers greedily over the miles and miles of porcelain skin, an empty canvas. He wants to get lost to his body, so pale like the snow but firm yet delicate, muscular, lean yet inviting, begging to be touched. He lowers his face and claims his skin with his mouth, kissing everything within reach. Jimmy winds his fingers in Richard's hair and moans, holding him to his chest like he wants more and doesn't want him to pull away. His thumbs find Jimmy's sensitive nipples all taut and pink and his eyes are full of the snow covered window as he grazes his teeth over them getting a shudder from the younger man. Richard laps his tongue over the sensitive area twisting the other in his fingers and Jimmy squirms. "Fuck," he says under his breath and he hears his head knocking against the wood wall.

He takes a nipple between his lips and sucks and hears Jimmy's breath hitching in his throat and releases sounds somewhere between pain and pleasure. Jimmy's cupping his face, drawing him upwards and Jimmy meets his mouth in a messy, eager kiss. Richard pushes him further into the wall as Jimmy sucks on his bottom lip. He's mindful of Jimmy's injury and still frail state but he needs to be closer. He smells like ointment, blood and the soap the old woman uses to clean her sheets. He also smells a bit like himself. Richard releases a groan as Jimmy continues to suck and his hands find the buttons and fly of Jimmy's pants. He feels Jimmy stiffen at the close contact as he fumbles with shaky fingers to release him of his pants. He hears Jimmy gasp against his ear, his lips at the right side of his neck when Richard's fingers graze Jimmy's erection. Richard closes his eye, his breathing hard and Jimmy puts his hands on his bare shoulders as Richard works his briefs off. He rests his head in the crook of Jimmy's shoulder and he isn't sure who's supporting who anymore as he takes Jimmy in his hands, stroking his length all hard and thick and leaking pre come in his fingers and Jimmy's sucking in air beneath him making broken sounds.

Richard finds his mouth, his eye still closed and the warm room is dissolving and he's moving them towards the bed, half carrying a still slightly weak Jimmy. He opens his eye and there's blond hair falling in Jimmy's flushed face, sun and snow bouncing off his pale form, his red leaking and trembling hard cock against the white sheets. Jimmy is watching him hungrily and Richard can't get his pants off fast enough. He hovers over Jimmy splayed over the white sheets once he loses his pants. He fumbles with his underwear and Jimmy's fingers meet his and help him pull them down, their faces so close. Jimmy's eyes never leave his and they're burning with intensity but also warmness as his briefs slide down Richard's thighs. Jimmy's fingers splay over his bare ass and Richard shudders at his touch. His fingers grip him there and are coaxing him downwards on top of him and Richard is hesitant but lies on top of Jimmy properly after a moment and they both groan as their erections dig into the other's stomach.

Richard forgets who is when Jimmy captures his mouth, one hand still on his ass, the other running over his cock. Richard shifts a bit and their pelvis to pelvis, erections gliding off each other and both men can't breathe. Jimmy is all flushed, sweaty skin, hair in his face on the white sheets. Richard runs his hands all over his exposed skin resting on Jimmy's cock and he shifts, withdrawing from Jimmy, hovering over him and he takes him quickly in his mouth. Jimmy bucks and swears every curse in the book as Richard's mouth molds around Jimmy's cock that's still leaking. He takes him in deeper and deeper and Jimmy is pulling at his hair when he decides feeling him in his mouth, his warm pre come dribbling down his throat, isn't enough and he moves over him in his mouth. Jimmy cries out, echoing through the small room as he works him. He cracks his eye open and sees Jimmy writhing on the sheets, biting his lip, pooled in sweat, his chest working hard and Richard experiments and runs his tongue along the underside of his cock slowly as he moves his lips over him getting a satisfactory moan from the other man. He swirls his tongue over the head, reaching behind Jimmy's balls and stroking the sensitive areas there and Jimmy is becoming undone. "Fuck…" he almost screams and Richard is very glad the old woman is a little hard of hearing and doesn't speak much English. He guesses she won't be up for a couple hours and Richard smiles with Jimmy's cock still in his mouth.

He sucks at him eagerly when his tongue gets tired and Jimmy moves with him, thrusting his hips up to meet him and Richard's head is spinning, filling with lust. His eye sees the snow drifting across the window and they move in a steady rhythm to match it. Richard can't take much more, his own cock leaking horribly all over Jimmy's stomach, his jaw hurting but he's lost to Jimmy inside and all around him.

"Richard," his voice breaks and it brings Richard back to the present. He removes Jimmy from his mouth with a soft PLOP and straddles him once again. Jimmy's pupils are blown as he regards him, his lips red and bruised, and his bandage still covering his chest near his left shoulder. Jimmy's massages Richard's tired jaw, his other hand massaging his cock, his lips finding Richard's neck and Richard lets him because this is who they are now. In the room almost all of white with snow dissolving the known world outside, the cross bearing down on them exposing their sin and Richard doesn't want to be anywhere else, only further inside Jimmy to trap this moment.

He flips Jimmy gently on his back, straddles him and explores his backside, his strong shoulders and back and his ass all white and smooth as snow. He runs his fingers over his ass exploring him, spreading his cheeks and exploring further until he finds his pinks muscle and Jimmy is arching his back and crying out when Richard circles it with a finger. He wets a finger in his mouth and circles the sensitive area again taking his thumb of his other hand and circling the small of Jimmy's back to relax him. He gently pushes in with a finger going deeper and deeper until Jimmy is shaking and fisting the sheets mumbling something incoherent. He moves in him, stretching him, fucking him slowly like the falling snow. Richard kisses his ass, his back, anything and Jimmy is up on his knees suddenly making Richard's head spin again. He's pleading with Richard under his breath for more. He's in two knuckles deep now and fucks him open. Jimmy shoots him a pained, broken yet eager look over his shoulder and Richard meets his mouth still moving silently inside, filling him up with his fingers. Jimmy moves with him after a time, fucking back on Richard's fingers and Richard can't breathe. The only sounds in the small white room are the two men sucking in air and the broken sounds they release as the room seems to get smaller and smaller. Richard grabs Jimmy's cock, holding on for dear life as they meet a rhythm and it's all Richard can do from losing it, his own cock too impossibly hard.

"Richard," it's needy and a plea, the same sound from when Jimmy was asking him to stop interrogating the man, wanting his attention, wanting him…

Jimmy looks at him over his shoulder with half lidded eyes. His eyes are darker and full of impossible things and want, his hair in his face, sweat on his brow he's and nodding at him. Richard takes a deep breath. He removes his dripping fingers from deep inside the other man getting a whine and a hiss from him. He drapes himself over the younger man-all perfect pale skin, trembling and fucked open for him. He runs his fingers over Jimmy's cock and thighs, getting his fingers saturated with pre come. He slicks up his own cock with his own mingling it with Jimmy's. He circles Jimmy's hole with his cock and the other man hangs his head between his shoulders, arching his back and ass wanting to meet him. It punches the air out of Richard's lungs with how eager he is for him. He circles slowly, sweeping over his tight muscle and enters him just as slowly.

Everything goes out of Richard like he's turned inside out and the only thing that makes sense is his inching cock filling Jimmy up. His tight heat grabs at him and he feels every miniscule as Jimmy stretches around him, accommodates him. It's like war, the half of his face exploding, like killing-it's chaos but makes perfect sense.

* * *

Richard holds Jimmy down and pushes inside him deeper and deeper. Jimmy hopes that he can keep going until he reaches oblivion, like standing on the edge of a boat and only seeing the vast open sea and nothing else. He doesn't want to feel anything, only Richard inside him pushing everything else out. Richard's all around him, his hot skin encompassing him and his dog tags tickling his back. Once Richard is fully inside to the hilt they move but it's slow like they're back in the dark hotel room or in the swirling snow and Jimmy only breathes when he meets his trusts like it's giving him life. And Richard is giving him life. He may have saved Richard but Richard has saved him, given him his much needed do-over.

Richard's fingers are wrapped around his cock and he works him in his hands and he's getting his restart. His and Richard's hands were meant for killing but they aren't killing they're being made over for something else… Richard's barely a couple slow strokes in and Jimmy feels he's getting close. Richard is all around him, everywhere, his cock moving inside him smoothly and his hands touching, exposing him and Jimmy feels it take over and he comes-in Richard's fingers, on the sheets, everywhere and he's reborn from Richard's touch, from all of this. His eyes are slightly leaking with pleasure and his body is floating, riding high. Richard is close behind and he feels him grip him tightly, filling and slicking him up and fucks him through his own release.

They're a mass of tangled limbs on the now ruined sheets. Richard rests his head on Jimmy's shoulder, his fingers ghosting over his chest and bandage. Jimmy reaches over at the small table next to the bed and grabs his cigarettes. He smokes with half lidded eyes, his heart pumping rapidly, his body humming, full of Richard and sex. The cross mocks him but absolves him and he feels Richard shift on the bed. He feels coolness at his chest and he looks down and sees that Richard has put his dog tags around Jimmy's neck. Jimmy fingers them stupidly and shoots the other man a look and a smile.

"They've always brought me protection and put things in perspective. Hmph."

Jimmy runs his fingers over them.

He rubs at his bleary eyes, cigarette burning between his pale fingers catching the light from the window.

"I don't think I'll ever like it…"

When Jimmy peers over at the other man Richard is watching him curiously, hair in his eyes, white sheet drawn over half his body, head slightly cocked.

"Like what? Hmm."

"Killing. I don't think I'll ever quite get used to it."

The side of Richard's mouth is twisted up in a smile. "That's good."

Jimmy releases the smoke he was holding in his body, trapping it. His eyes dart to the other man. The confusion on his face must be showing and he squints at Richard.

"Hmph. It's good that you're not use to it. Hmm. It means…you have some good left in you. Not like me."

Jimmy answers him by filling his mouth with smoke and a kiss, a promise. He falls asleep to the gentle rhythm of Richard's heartbeat so close to his, his warm skin all around him-his past, his present and his future.


	3. Runaway Houses

__

Please don't forget to review! :)

* * *

Part 3: "Runaway Houses"

_"Please don't get answers from eyes  
You know that mine can't lie  
Quite as well as yours  
Just let the spare moment flow  
Rounding steps as I go  
Through the open doors_

Please don't deflate from a sigh  
I'd hold still every time but I'd start to shake  
I wander around for days  
Wondering what I'll say  
When they want the truth

You will never know how hard I try  
To keep from waning while waiting at the start  
The depth of every touch is real as you need  
But words don't do any favours for me." Tame Impala: "Sundown Syndrome"

* * *

His wound heals like snow encrusting the ground and freezing it. They're frozen too-cooped up in the old woman's house since the snow is up to the window sills and neither man complains. There was a blizzard when they first arrived and Jimmy was still sleeping Richard told him but it's tapered off and now it's just heavy falling snow. It's still too heavy for them to venture outside and try to trek out on foot.

Richard's boots are drying by the front door shimmering wet, reflecting light, chunks of ice slide off of them and are dissolving into puddles. The fire in the fireplace bounces warm, soft firelight around the small room. Jimmy sits in a chair with a blanket around him and reads: "The Tin Solider". Richard likes it when he reads it out loud. Richard will sit at his feet sometimes curled around his legs, cheek rested on Jimmy's thigh while playing with the hem of Jimmy's trousers, tickling his skin and Jimmy thinks it's sort of perfect.

Zofia, the old Polish woman, cooks them sausage and bakes bread and Richard trudges through deep snow to cut her fire wood, try to hunt or to do other tasks for her for payment for their stay. He speaks to her in broken Polish and Jimmy nearly loses the mug of tea he was drinking. Richard eyes him after Zofia scuttles out of the room.

"I picked up on some words."

"We've only been here for five days."

"Hmph. Has it only been that long?" He looks around the small house like he's seeing it for the first time, his face broken out in a sloppy, knowing grin.

"I guess I just pick up on, hmm, things quickly."

Jimmy finds himself returning the smile as he leans carefully against the archway to the kitchen, mug in his hand, a slow blush on his cheeks. He looks down to the thread bare carpet.

"Like me."

Richard is crowding his space a heartbeat later, all warm heat and musty smells, his half a mouth close to Jimmy's ear.

"Just like you," his breath tickles Jimmy's face and he dusts a knuckle over Jimmy's cheek and then Richard is moving across the great room, long strides taking him across the floor quickly. Jimmy is left trembling slightly though new heat has spread through his body. He can only lean further into the wall to keep from feeling he'll float away.

* * *

Zofia cannot hear well and only speaks and understands little English but she seems delighted to be helping out the wandering ministers. She cooks for them and likes to sit and pray the rosary or read the Bible. She sleeps a lot and keeps to herself though Jimmy is surprised at how quick she gets around for being in her seventies. Jimmy can only smile at her behind her back and wonder if his own mother will be like her with her bent over posture, small wisps of white thin hair, wrinkles upon wrinkles and age spots that go on for days.

She was married and had a child at thirteen but one day she will be old and frail and I may have to take care of her just like we took care of the Commodore…like Richard took care of me…

But he doesn't think of his mother. They're in a safe place like Richard had called it, a place that no one can touch, tucked away from enemy's eyes and long ago memories. They're buried in snow like a place that doesn't count but it does to them. They built a house out of sand and glass. People could peer inside or try to come in but they wouldn't see anything because it would dissolve or break at their touch, crumbling to earth and be washed away with the tide.

Jimmy likes to watch Richard pull on his heavy boots, his wool coat and a borrowed hat from Zofia that goes over his ears. Jimmy watches him through the snow encrusted window as Richard trudges through heavy, high snow to the wood pile around the house and splits wood with an axe and his strong arms, breathing labored and sweat beading on his forehead. He watches in shadow as Richard gets too warm from the exertion and loses his coat and hat eventually stripping down to his white undershirt and Jimmy wonders stupidly if it's for his benefit. He smokes and watches Richard swing the axe with the strained muscles of his arms. He watches how they flex and work under his thin shirt that's getting spotted with sweat. He likes how Richard pauses to wipe his brow and push fallen dark hair out of his eye. Jimmy is like a clock wound too tight and someone is playing with his springs. When Richard returns a time later with logs in his dirty arms, his whole body glistening with snow and sweat and his face flushed Jimmy waits but not patiently for Richard to crouch by the fireplace to add more logs to it. Once Richard has deposited the logs and has wiped his hands Jimmy's springs have been sprung and he's on Richard in a flash.

He encircles his arms around Richard's waist pressed in close to his damp clothes. Jimmy can smell the pine and the sodden earth on him. Jimmy lifts and shifts Richard's dripping mask and kisses his cold lips. Richard tries to detangle himself from Jimmy probably worried that Zofia could walk in at any moment and really she could but he stops struggling after a moment and draws Jimmy in closer, cupping his face and returning the needy kiss. The fire from the fireplace warms their skin. Wood crackles and spits in the hearth but Jimmy can only hear the sound their mouths make as Jimmy tries to taste the winter air on Richard's tongue. They are the only two people on earth in the snowy back woods near New York in the warm great room of a stranger's home. This is the way they live now.

* * *

Jimmy pads around in bare feet a little later after taking a nap, blanket around his shoulders, fresh bandage on, steaming mug in hand and he hears music filter in through the house. He approaches the great room and it smells of fresh pine. His eyes dart to a freshly chopped small pine tree, snow still melting off of it in the corner of the room. Richard is sitting hunched over at the ancient piano in the other corner of the room and he's playing Beethoven's "Moonlight Sonata". Jimmy stands frozen in place. Steam from his mug is wafting in front of him and the piano is slightly out of tune but Richard plays wonderfully and Jimmy's afraid that he'll stop. The song always struck Jimmy as sad but hopeful and it grips him. Pine needles drop to the puddle ridden floor and Zofia is standing against a wall across from Jimmy, eyes closed and he swears he sees tears in her eyes and Jimmy's own eyes go wide. Jimmy closes his eyes and he's eight years old again. His mother and the Commodore hang tinsel from their tree, bright packages under it reflecting firelight. Jimmy lies on the sofa and gazes up to the ceiling, overly anxious for Christmas to come. Christmas is finding its way here too.

Jimmy finds himself shuffling on bare feet over to Richard. Richard is concentrating hard, some hair falling in his eyes, his fingers brushing keys lightly but possessively like his Colt, like Jimmy's knife, like when he fucks Jimmy slowly in their room with snow all around, slow attention to detail like it's the only thing in the world. He stops playing and it's like a jolt of electricity is sent through Jimmy's spine. Richard is meeting his face like it was nothing at all that he just played a seven minute song wonderfully. Zofia comes over to Richard before Jimmy can open his mouth. Zofia kisses Richard's cheeks one by one not even flinching when she kisses his masked side and calls him: "człowieka pół anioł"- "angel half man" Richard translates some time later. Richard blushes a little, cracks his knuckles and shoots Jimmy a look when Zofia shuffles off to the kitchen.

"Play something a little more upbeat. You're making Zofia cry over here," Jimmy lights a cigarette and tries to hide his smile. Richard plays a more uplifting Wagner tune and Jimmy rests his mug down on the coffee table and rests his cheek on the smooth, ancient wood of the piano, cigarette still in his mouth, smoke swirling around Richard's fingers. Jimmy closes his eyes and listens to Richard play. He whirls a finger around a knot in the wood. "This won't last," and he isn't sure if he's talking about the song, them staying with Zofia or their relationship in general-whatever it was. Richard dipped Jimmy into a dark river but Jimmy came out reborn from that darkness. Once they left this place and after they found the mistress and the children they would go back to their old lives and Jimmy would still struggle with who he's supposed to be. Richard just continues to play and maybe he hasn't heard Jimmy or doesn't want to.

* * *

Jimmy knows Richard writes things in his moleskine journal. Sometimes Jimmy will read "The Tin Solider" while Richard scribbles furiously in his notebook and Zofia will rock in her chair knitting with her arthritic hands moving slowly in the firelight with the early Christmas tree Richard chopped leaning up in a corner with popcorn tinsel around it that the three of them made. They're all doing their own private thing but they're all sitting close to one another like an intimate family. Snow moves against the dark sky outside the window and it's quiet but warm and Jimmy doesn't want to be anywhere else.

Because he wants to know him even if he can't admit it he waits until Richard has gone outside to shovel to root around in Richard's bag and draw out his moleskine journal.

Jimmy flips to a random page and reads:

_"You do not know the passage to the other world. Black lines that stretch outwards like long dead fingers, like ink running in the veins of a heart. You do not know these things. Rocks in shoes and choppy seas, throwing shadows together. You do not know how to get there. Rubbing two bullets together through stained fingers, creating friction, a swishing metallic sound. Metal becomes the man becomes the gun and you do not know. Gone bad in the middle. Soft and delicate veins, tissue and muscle exposed-red, squishy and running together like the insides of a tree with rings that circle time and we forget who we are._

_You do not know this passage to me. I come to a point like a boat, like a weapon but I am not something you can ride to shore or something that you can kill with. Line up everything. Count them all. Then come back. Put everything you own in a box and send it down a river. Leave the river and then come back. You do not know this world. High invisible things like towers cloud your eyes and put diamonds there like coins. You're on the outside looking into your inside slicing light with your fingers and you do not come back._

_There are moths in your mouth and zippers on your eyes and you do not know. There are curvatures, spindles, knots and snags traveling around every fabric and speck through and through until it becomes the only true thing like tracing a line with your fingers. Leave flesh, leave muscle, skin and bone and keep whittling away like a stick to a point that is not me until it is. Keep shucking and pulling away layers until you come to nothing and then you are me, sharing me. Shoot up straight to the middle and do not pretend. This is the way to the dark passage, to the other world, to me."_

Jimmy reads it a few more times, his eyes darting over Richard's clean, neat script, the dark ink and the lined perfect pages. His hands are shaking when he's finished. He flips through the other pages of the journal. It's only half full but it's enough. The writing is dark but beautiful, intelligent, damaged but precise and painstakingly careful-Richard in a nutshell. Jimmy fingers Richard's dog tags that are around his neck absentmindedly. How long will he wear them? How long will they live in this glass world of perfect sin?

* * *

It's been eight days and the snow only slows. They're living in a snow globe the three of them. As frightenly content Jimmy is getting and how much stronger he feels as days pass he also feels he's going stir crazy.

Though Richard protests Jimmy insists on coming with Richard early in the morning to try to hunt deer or anything else as Zofia's food supply is running a little low. She had anticipated heavy snow and stocked up but she didn't plan on having two grown men live with her for over a week. It was the least they could do. Richard eventually gives in and Jimmy has to hide some excitement as he pulls on his boots and his coat, tucking his Colt inside his jacket. Richard too looks eager that he's bringing his M17 rifle and his own Colt. They pack up and take what they need in case they come across bigger game.

"Do you think they're alive?" Jimmy chances when they're outside, their footsteps making heavy, deep impressions in the snow. Snow is falling lazily like it might plan to let up completely soon. Sunlight tries to peep in through the graying clouds and patches of the snowy expanse lights up like millions of diamonds. Jimmy's breath catches in his throat as he sees the sight.

"Could be…"

"Do you think we're alive?" Jimmy stops and cranes his neck watching swirling snow fall from an otherworldly place, somewhere sin, creation, and innocence are born. Richard reaches for him suddenly, drawing him into a kiss.

"Yes," he responds after releasing a trembling Jimmy from him. 'Yes, I do." He says it with so much authority that Jimmy almost believes him. They're cut from cloth, black X's for eyes, stitching up the back, stuffed with sawdust in this place but they are real. Richard shares his bed every night and they don't speak of what happens after and they are alive, breathing in the same air and moving around silently in this snowy world.

* * *

Jimmy asking if they're alive was the most they had talked about Ms. Britton and the children in quite a while and guilt twists inside Richard like a knife to his guts. They were being selfish and stupid. Snow falls and collects on his eye lid making him blink the powdery flakes out. The heavy snow was preventing them from their mission and he would stand behind this truth if someone asked them. Mr. Thompson and Mrs. Schroeder must be beside themselves with worry and grief. Ms. Britton and the children may be alive but were probably terrified. And what could they do? Richard thought maybe he was kidding himself. He was a soldier and a killer. He was no hero and no rescuer of mistresses and children. Jimmy, in a tender moment after their first time together, had confessed that he didn't really like to kill but Richard did. He did very much and he was very good at it. He liked that Jimmy was bringing out the better in him. Whatever that was.

Living with Zofia in her house was like a prayer answered but also like falling off the path. Jimmy was healing, maybe in more ways than one in this place, opening up to him-his body and his heart but it's just like Jimmy said when he was listening to Richard play the piano-it won't last. They'll go back to Atlantic City either with Ms. Britton and the children or not and then they'll go back to their respective lives. For Richard that was returning to Mrs. Schroeder's house if Mr. Thompson still wants to give him work and for Jimmy that was being a father and even though he wasn't married he had Angela waiting for him. Fresh guilt stabs at Richard as they trek through the heavy snow that sucks at their boots. All of this was keeping Jimmy from his son. Jimmy eyes Richard curiously as they approach the woods, the woods where Richard made camp for the two of them when Jimmy wasn't conscious, his wound still fresh and Zofia came upon them unexpectedly. He almost shot her thinking it was someone sent to kill them. But she was all innocent and warm smiles with her missing, rotting teeth and all hunched over with her heavy coat drawn tight over her frail form. She speaks polish and Richard's head spins from the strange words and the bourbon he drank to keep warm. He found the bottle in the stolen car.

She looks to Richard and then to Jimmy who's lying under a blanket on the bloody, snowy ground. Richard notes the cross she wears and the way she makes the sign of the cross at Jimmy from seeing the blood. She turns to Richard after what Richard thinks was a silent prayer for Jimmy's recovery that she said under her breath. She gestures to the woods around them. "My…my home," she says with a little smile and Richard thinks she means they're on her land which makes Richard a little edgy.

"Ministers," Richard tries after several failed attempts at getting her to understand some made up story. He only lies so that she's not frightened especially with them being on her land. She nods a little and makes a grunt in approval and understanding. He makes a gun with his fingers and mimics animals to represent hunting, pointing to Jimmy to represent him getting shot and she seems to catch Richard's drift. She starts walking away and motions for him to follow and then Richard is the one that doesn't understand. She marches right up to him not showing any signs that she's afraid of his masked appearance saying: "Come". Richard thinks he has no choice as he needs to get Jimmy out of the cold. He packs up and follows her through the falling snow, Jimmy and bags over his shoulders until they come upon what he hopes is her small home which is almost like a cabin set in the middle of nowhere.

He feels mystified once they are inside and the feeling is only intensified as she motions for him to follow her into a bedroom. He lays Jimmy down on the small bed and the woman immediately assesses Jimmy's injury. She scurries out of the room quicker than Richard would have thought possible for a woman her age. She comes back a short time later and doctors Jimmy's injury. Jimmy's eyes are still closed and worry floods through Richard. The woman closes her eyes and Richard sees her lips moving though no sounds come out and he thinks she's praying again. She touches Jimmy's eyelids and smiles at Richard. She points to the window. "Snow," she declares and then she speaks in words Richard doesn't understand. "Sleep," she says after a time, the only word Richard can make out in the mass of others. He nods and tries: "Thank you," which she just smiles at and if she understands him or hears him is a wonder to Richard as she swiftly leaves the room.

It was torture watching Jimmy and not able to do much for him. He can only drink the bottle of stolen bourbon, polish his Colt and watch now heavy, swirling snow cut across the window. He looks through all the things he found from their attackers pockets again, laying them out neatly on the small desk in the room looking at their train ticket stubs from New York to New Jersey. He found a photograph in the wallet of one of the men. It was of a child around the same age of Mrs. Schroeder's son. The photograph had some writing on the back that said: "Samantha. Albany Photography, 1918". He had already phoned Mr. Thompson the night before about the attacker's ambush and the findings confirming their suspicions that the men were from New York which meant they needed to get there too. Mr. Thompson seemed angry but also a little concerned that Jimmy was shot. There was an edge to his voice and he seemed very tired and worn thin-the abduction taking its toll.

"We'll find them," he hears himself telling Mr. Thompson as he throws cautious looks over his shoulders in the telephone booth in the hotel he stopped at leaving Jimmy in the stolen car. Richard doesn't like how some of the patrons are watching him but Richard could just be paranoid. Mr. Thompson sighs heavily into the phone and Richard can see him frowning and rubbing at his eyes.

"I hope for all our sakes that you do. Please keep an eye over Jimmy too. He won't admit it but he's not invincible," and Mr. Thompson hangs up leaving Richard blinking at the receiver, his words swimming inside Richard. "I will," he tells the phone booth quickly going back to an unconscious Jimmy waiting for him in the car.

It's a day spent of waiting for Jimmy to wake up but the old woman insists that Richard sit and eat with her. She sits him down at her small, worn kitchen table and it reminds him a lot of Mrs. Schroeder's. She hands him a bowl and it's a kind of stew that Richard eats ravishingly, hardly tasting it. He didn't know how hungry he was until the food was right in front of him. He was too concerned with trying to keep both him and Jimmy alive. He hears Mr. Thompson's words about keeping an eye on Jimmy and Richard closes his eye and breathes out a long sigh.

Richard feels cold hands on his face and his eye flies open. The old woman is smiling at him, her old weathered eyes crinkling at the corners, her skin so translucent and thin it looks as delicate as paper.

"You good man," and she says in broken English and she utters some other words Richard doesn't understand.

She turns Richard's masked side towards her like she's unabashedly inspecting him like she's a doctor. "Your face…" and she struggles with her words. "Will heal. You do God's work," she smiles like she's very pleased with herself for the statement or for maybe getting the words right. Richard can only stare at her wide eyed and shake his head a little.

"Thank you but no. Hmm. I'm not a good man. God doesn't see people like me. Hmm," he smiles weakly and the old woman stares at him blankly and shoots him a confused look. Richard is glad she didn't understand what he said. "Thank you," he says again and the old woman thankfully removes her icy fingers from Richard's face and nods a little.

"Zofia," she points to herself.

Richard nods. "Richard," and he points to his chest.

"Człowieka pół anioł," and she laughs an endearing, throaty laugh and it's her turn to shake her head. "Angel half man," she whispers as she shuffles off into the kitchen with the snow rattling the small windows. "Angel half man."

When Jimmy wakes the next day Richard is overwhelmed with emotions and needs to be close to him even if it's just once. But Jimmy reciprocates and neither of them are drunk, no alcohol at all for that matter and he wants it and Jimmy wants it, they both need it as Richard makes love to him. Jimmy normally calls the shots but he is content with Richard taking control and Richard doesn't question it. It only makes Richard feel more strongly for him.

Jimmy fiddles with Richard's dog tags around his neck as they trudge through deep snow bringing Richard back to the present. Barren, snarly trees heavily laden with snow in their bare branches are all around them and Richard is reminded of this life they're living now. It's only real to them. They're in suspended motion like throwing a coin down a deep well and having it stop halfway through. It's like the deeper they go the more unknown they'll find. It's scary but beautiful.

The wood is silent. Heaps of snow cover every surface drifting against the trees like precarious slopes and the only sound is their boots crunching under the snow and the slight wind whistling past their ears. Morning light tries to peep in through the heavy clouds making odd patches of light in the wood. Snow falls like salt being shaken from a shaker and light trickles down and filters into the wood and Richard thinks it's very peaceful. There's a certain calm like the world is holding its breath.

He wasn't sure about Jimmy but Richard had hunted before with his Grandfather. Richard visited his Grandfather who lived in upstate New York and he liked to take Richard hunting when Richard was ten or eleven. His Grandfather had a farm and they would get up very early to sit and wait for whitetail deer. His Grandfather had showed him how to track deer, how to look for their tracks in the earth and look at the surroundings like bent branches and leaves. Hunting took a lot of patience as it could be a waiting game. Being in this place reminded Richard a lot of his Grandfather's property.

Although the conditions weren't desirable and the snow is making it hard to track Richard still picks up on subtle hints that deer are in the area. He sees droppings, catches a hoof print every now and again, snapped twigs or freshly brushed snow off fallen logs. Thankfully Jimmy is silent and he lets Richard concentrate. Normally the younger man has issues with being still and he's shown Richard in the past that patience wasn't his virtue but Jimmy is uncharacteristically complacent and only squints or shoots Richard impassive or questioning looks every once in a while. Richard thinks this journey has changed Jimmy but its changed Richard too.

They're moving slowly though they've already walked a good ways from Zofia's house. Richard has been dutifully tracking and he sees that they're approaching a clearing. Richard hasn't used his M17 for hunting bigger game but he figures it's just like hunting people and shouldn't be any different. He'll have to aim for different parts but good aim has always been something that he prides himself on. The clearing and a stream are just in their sights. Richard leads them to some trees and fallen logs for cover. Richard digs them a hole in the snow so that they can sit behind the fallen logs. Jimmy helps him clear the ground. Jimmy blows warmth into his hands and lights a cigarette.

"Now what?"

Richard smiles and brushes snow out of Jimmy's hair and sweeping it back for him.

"Now. Hmm. We wait."

Richard knows from the tracks he's picked up that deer are around but they just need to wait for them to stop at the stream. He watches the silent wood, spies Jimmy shift on the cold ground next to him fiddling with the dog tags and his fedora. He watches him smoke and likes how the gently falling snow lands on his already pale skin like he was meant for a world like this made out of ice and cold. It's a long wait and coldness is seeping into Richard's bones and makes him feel stiff. He waited for the German sniper for three days and he tells himself he can bunk down in the snow for a couple hours. Patience has never been a problem for Richard. The sun that's barely visible has moved across the wood and Richard knows at least another hour has passed. Jimmy is leaning up against Richard snoring softly. Richard smiles and checks their surroundings again. He sees a family of deer approach. Richard swiftly takes off his mask and glasses, sets up his M17 on the fallen log and prepares the shot. This requires more patience as he has to wait for the buck to give him a clear straight down shot. He learned from his Grandfather that it was best to hit the spine or lung or some other vital organ to bring it down quickly. This kind of shot can be very tricky, unforgiving and has practically zero room for error. Richard could, for time sake, aim for the head and be done with it but it's the principal of the thing, his Grandfather's rules coming back to him and Richard is always up for a challenge in terms of aiming and shooting. Richard has to wait for the buck to turn at just the right angle and as he watches the group of deer by the stream for a while he almost anxiously fears that he may not get his clean shot. Thankfully he does and he's ready for him.

"Mam cię[1]," he whispers, not even aware that he's speaking polish like living with Zofia all this time has rubbed off on him and really it had. He had grown to really like her and the odd family unit the three of them had become. He smiles as he takes aim and shoots clear to the buck's spinal column. The shot echoes loudly through the snowy woods and seems to fill it up. The fawn and doe scatter kicking up powdery snow. The buck tries to take a step but crumples to the ground and Richard smiles again. Jimmy stirs awake next to him as he apparently woke to the shot.

"To jest dla ciebie dziadek[2]," he says under his breath and Jimmy throws him a queer look but grins when he peers over the fallen log.

"Fuck," Jimmy says with a sloppy grin on his face. "I missed it," and he throws Richard a warm, appreciative smile that seems to melt some of the ice that's encrusted around Richard's heart and body. Richard almost forgets about the buck and stares at Jimmy, forgetting that he isn't wearing his mask or glasses again. Jimmy always has that affect on him. Jimmy points to Richard's glasses that are resting on the log. "Why do you wear them if you don't even need them?"

"Keeps my mask on. Hungh." Richard dons his mask and glasses quickly; smoothes his damp hair back and tucks his rifle carefully back into its case.

"That's bullshit."

"Probably…"

They share a knowing look. "C'mon. Hmm," Richard gets up on stiff legs and motions with his head for Jimmy to follow. Jimmy gets up carefully, brushing snow off of him and keeping his weight on his good leg. The fallen buck looks strange resting on its side in the fresh snow like it's somehow staining the innocence of the wood. Its tan flank sticks out prominently on the white like it's the only thing they can see. The two men crouch around it and the snow has practically stopped thankfully like Richard had extinguished not only the buck's life but the snow's as well. Jimmy inspects the clean shot and whistles as his gloved fingers circle the bullet hole. "Fuck," he says in wonder and amazement and Richard takes that for as much of a compliment as he can. Jimmy pulls out his knife from his boot, his piercing blue eyes looking eager, dangerous and greedy but Richard puts a hand on his to stop him. "Not now. Hmph. We'll do it when we get back. Help me load it."

Richard had brought an old sheet from Zofia's that he tucked away in his bag. The two men lay the sheet down and with much difficulty on the slippery snow they manage to drag the heavy buck, that's bundled in the sheet, behind them as they trek through the snow as it would be too heavy to carry it for the distance they traveled. Jimmy puffs on a cigarette and they're quiet again as they both are pulling the buck behind them. It's difficult work but Richard feels flutters of pleasure in his stomach at thinking at how Zofia will react at seeing what they're bringing home to her and it makes the trek seem shorter somehow. They follow their footprints back, Richard navigating as Jimmy isn't the best with directions. They're getting closer and Richard is recognizing the landmarks when he hears it. He stops suddenly catching Jimmy off guard and he stumbles to a stop as well. Richard's ears prick up and he can't quite make out the sound. Jimmy shoots him a questioning look though there's hardness in his eyes. They stand stock still and then Richard hears it: the distinct sound of men's voices.

"Shit," Jimmy breathes under his breath obviously hearing it too. They leave the buck and seek cover behind trees, each man standing behind a different one though within sight of each other. They're still a little too far from the house to be able to see where the men are coming from or if they're a true threat but Richard gets a bad feeling in his gut. Jimmy draws his Colt out at the same time Richard does. Jimmy motions with his head to move farther into the wood towards where the voices were coming from and Richard is a little concerned since Jimmy has just recovered from one bullet injury. Richard nods though and moves through the snow as silently as he can as they need to deal with this.

They move slowly, creeping along, hiding behind trees and other things for cover and the voices are getting closer and louder. They're men's voices and as Richard approaches closer he can hear their distinct New York accent. He had grown up there and could pick out the accent anywhere. He grits his teeth and shoots Jimmy a look. He's crouched behind some trees maybe thirty feet away. Richard makes motions at Jimmy and it's like they're back in the war. He motions that they should split up and circle around these men. They would have a better shot if they surround them or at least try to slip past them instead of meeting them head on. Richard picks up at least three different voices and relays that to Jimmy through hand movements. Jimmy nods, all hard, calculating eyes and Richard grins. He likes it when Jimmy looks like this. They part ways both taking a different route and slowly circle around the men's voices that seem to be approaching closer.

Richard hears one of them say something like: "…keep following their tracks…" and that's enough for Richard to know that these men are involved with the same men from New York that have taken Ms. Britton and the children. They're obviously looking for Jimmy and Richard. Richard hopes that Jimmy has heard it too but he can't be sure. Richard approaches a little closer and sets up his rifle quickly. If he can take at least one of these men out then he'll be satisfied. If he's lucky he'll be able to take two and hopefully Jimmy will hear the shots and be able to incapacitate the third. Richard wants to keep one of them alive. He readies his rifle and it's like he's waiting for the buck by the stream again. He doesn't know if this is futile or if they'll walk by in his line of sight but by the way they're approaching it sure sounds like it. It's tricky again as there are a lot of trees and he tries to position his rifle so that trees or branches aren't in the way. It's a challenge but Richard loves the prospect of it. He hears twigs snapping a few seconds later and the voices are close now. Richard thinks the men are rather stupid for sticking together. They should have spread out to search the wood but then again Richard isn't sure if there are more of them scouring the area. He tries to push out his concern for Zofia as he takes off his mask and glasses and readies his rifle. The men are quiet now like maybe they're thinking that staying quiet is a better idea than making a lot of noise and Richard sees them through the scope of his rifle. They're about a couple hundred feet away. There are three of them huddled together in dark coats and hats. They have guns out at the ready and Richard bites back anger and the need bubbling up inside him to try to take all three of them out. The urge to kill is so strong that it envelops him and he feels transported back to the war where he was needed, was regarded as a hero, was somebody once.

He exhales slowly, something that always helps him focus. He takes aim, the usual place as it's hard for him not to aim under the area right below the eye; he has the German sniper to thank for that.

"Mam nadzieję, że Bóg tego nie widzi Zofia[3]," he says under his breath and depresses the trigger, his lips moving like he's saying a prayer just like Zofia, the breath released from his lungs. It's the truest thing imaginable when he feels the kickback of his gun, hears the familiar crack of the shot fired, knows he has aimed true and taken a life like snuffing out a candle. The man in the derby hat falls face first in a heap, a little trickle of neat blood spilling down his snow stained cheek and Richard sees through the scope the shock and terror on his companion's faces, their eyes and heads dart and snap around, their pistols close to their chests. Richard wishes they would stop moving so he can aim and get a better shot. He hears gunfire from another direction and knows it's probably Jimmy. The bullet doesn't connect and the two men stalk off in the direction of where presumably Jimmy is. Richard curses under his breath and although he can't aim for the area right below the men's eyes he can still make a head shot. He aims and fires at the back of one of the men's heads. It connects and the man falls over on his side in a bloody heap. It isn't the way Richard usually takes lives. He likes neat, clean shots without a lot of blood and mess but the situation was dire and they were in a pinch. He packs up quickly and takes off as the third man is now running and is too far away to try to take a shot to stop him. He hears another shot fired and Richard runs in the direction of the noise. Low branches lash at his face and he slips and falls in the heavy snow a couple times but he makes his way.

He pushes through snow burdened trees and bushes and hears voices. He follows the sounds, heavy snow sucking at his boots like quicksand and suddenly he half falls into someone as they back up into him. Richard backs up a couple steps and when the figure turns their head around in Richard's direction Richard sees its Jimmy. Richard releases a breath he didn't know he was holding. Relief washes over Richard when he realizes that Jimmy is not injured. Richard hears a whimpering noise and Jimmy motions with his head for Richard to follow him. They walk a few paces until they come upon one of their pursuers who is kneeling in the snow, back to them with their hands on their head. Jimmy pushes past Richard, digs his Colt in the man's back and gets him to his feet. The man is bleeding from his head, blood dripping in his eyes and he winches when Jimmy digs his gun deeper into his back. The man releases another yelp, his eyes wide with fear and pain.

"You shut the fuck up," Jimmy hisses at him under his breath. "Now move," and he rudely shoves the man. He goes stumbling forward but Jimmy limps up to him and with his gun pointed into his back he leads the man through the snow. "He won't say if there are more of them in the woods," Jimmy's eyes are hardened and he spits into the snow as they make their way back to the house. Richard leads the way and they try to hurry. Richard smells it before he sees it. They're just out of the woods and the air is thick with the smell of burning wood and then Richard runs.

"Richard," Jimmy yells after him but Richard ignores him.

Zofia's house, their sanctuary from the blizzard and the rest of the world is burning. The fire is bad already. Flames are breaking the windows and heavy dark smoke is billowing out staining the sky black. Richard takes off like a shot and Jimmy is shouting from a distance to stop but Richard can't stop. Richard flings his bag to the ground and when he approaches the house he knows right away he cannot enter from the front door. The roof collapses with a sickening crash and the flames make a desperate whooshing sound that sends shivers down Richard's spine and still he stupidly thinks he can enter another way to try to save her.

"Richard!" and there's a strong hand on his shoulder bringing him back.

He's lead back from the burning house and he feels slightly numb but Richard can't keep his gaze off the flames that seem to rise ever upwards. They stop when they're a few hundred feet from the house. Jimmy has the man tightly in his grasp with his gun pointed at him.

"Fuck," Jimmy says under his breath. He starts screaming at their hostage, blaming him for the fire, threatening him, hitting him and kicking him and Richard lets him. It's Jimmy's way of dealing with it but Richard has his own way. He watches the house, their house he was beginning to think of it with the room him and Jimmy shared, the ancient piano that Zofia loved to listen to Richard play, the early Christmas tree that Richard had chopped for her and the popcorn tinsel that the three of them had made to decorate it. He watches it all slowly burn and turn to ash. He imagines it as a funeral pyre and he isn't a praying man but he closes his eye and says his last goodbyes to their host and friend. He's fighting back tears of anger and loss and he can't even mourn her because they have to keep moving if they can keep moving but it's hard for Richard to think through the mounting guilt he feels. Zofia took them into her home, offered them a place to stay and trusted them and Richard had gotten her killed in way of thanks. Richard balls his hands into fists and they start to shake and Jimmy is saying something to him but all Richard can hear is the roaring flames and the crash of debris as the house is being eaten up and is falling apart. They built something here and now everything is gone. _Everything is gone._

Jimmy is still speaking and Richard turns his attention to the younger man and his anger is reflected on Jimmy's face. "It's fucking personal now. Hmm." Jimmy's eyes go a little wide, his jaw clenched and his mouth a hard set line. "It's personal now," Richard repeats and he directs his attention to their hostage who's donning fresh cuts and bruises and looking like he may pass out. "I will find them and, hungh, I will hunt down your accomplices if it's the last thing I do. Hmph. I will kill you all for what you did. Hmm." Jimmy's eyes are burning with just as much intensity as the flames and he nods at Richard's threat. "And I'll help you. Someone's going to pay for this," he hands Richard his bag and Richard takes it with a curt nod.

Richard takes one more look at the house which isn't a house anymore but a pile of flaming rubble and debris. He focuses his attention back on Jimmy. "Hmph. Yes and that someone is me." Jimmy's eyes narrow in confusion, a question on his lips but Richard turns from him quickly and starts walking away from flames and smoke, from a life he thought he had built up. He had told Jimmy they were in a safe place, that no one would find them here. Richard was beginning to think that nowhere was safe.

Richard's walking and he isn't sure where he's going he just wants to be away from it. Away from the lies he told and the life he took but thinking they'll be stuck here because the roads are still too covered in snow to try to steal a new car or hitch a ride. But Richard thinks he deserves it like it's his own personal penance or he's caught in his own version of hell where he can't escape the burning, runaway house and dreams. Jimmy is right beside him then still pushing along the battered hostage like Jimmy's sticking to his word about helping Richard and Richard isn't sure why. It was all his fault. They were in this mess because of him. They pass through a clearing and there are several saddled and bridled horses tied to tree branches and Richard knows that's how their pursuers traveled and it's like a tiny miracle amidst the load of disaster. Jimmy hadn't ridden before so Richard helps tie the hostage up with cut pieces of cloth from Jimmy's shirt and Richard helps hoist Jimmy and the hostage up onto the mare. Richard hadn't ridden in a long time but it was like riding a bicycle. He hadn't forgotten. They take off without a word and Richard glances over his shoulder and can still make out smoke trailing up to the sky in thin tendrils. It's something else he hadn't forgotten about and never would.

* * *

1 Got You

2 That's (or that is) for you Grandfather.

3 I hope God does not see this Zofia.


	4. When my gaze comes down

**We're sadly at the end. It's been a marvelous journey and I want to thank you all for taking it with me. It was a first of a lot of things: My first Jimmy/Richard, the first for livejournal, for , and maybe for the fandom as a whole (though I can't be too sure of the last one). I felt pressure and stress at times to do them justice. As everyone knows they aren't easy people and I didn't think they're relationship should be "easy" either.**

**I want to thank you all again for your support. The BE fandom has been really great. Please enjoy the last chapter and as always please don't forget to review! :)**

* * *

Final Part:"When my gaze comes down my heart stays up."

The world holds its breath and is quiet save for the distant sound of a fire burning. His mare's breath is flaring out in heavy gusts as they travel down the endless deserted road. There's nothing but endless fields around them and flat land. Richard thinks he misses the ocean however murky and tumultuous it would be and the things he was thinking were familiar by the boardwalk. Richard thinks it's safer they stick to the woods and avoid the road so they lead their mares to the forest. Jimmy trails weakly behind him, not experienced with a horse. He hears him struggle. He's also yelling at the hostage, asking him what direction they came from and where they're holding Ms. Britton and the children. Richard picks up on some of it but he's a little too far away and he wants to be even further away. _No amount of running is going to get me far away enough._

He should stop and wait up for Jimmy or help him question the hostage but quick glances over his shoulder tell Richard that Jimmy is handling himself well enough and he knows that this is Jimmy's way of dealing with it all. Jimmy externalizes and Richard internalizes. They pass through the thinning forest. The trees are thick with heavy snow covering every surface. Snow is crushed and kicked up by the mare's hooves, crunching as they pass and there's nothing but white for miles.

Jimmy whistles something absentmindedly after a while as he often does when he gets bored. They've traveled a distance, the sun shifting in the sky to its highest point and it makes Richard squint as the snow is too dazzling in the bright sun. The woods thin out and they change course to travel by road again, confident that they shook their pursuers. Richard slows when he sees it. He stops altogether when he's upon it. Jimmy comes to a rough stop behind him, having a little trouble with the reigns. It's a welcome sign to New York. Richard turns his mare so he's facing Jimmy. They stare at each other for a while, watching their heavy breath puff out in front of them. Jimmy is the first to break.

"Why are we stopping?"

Richard turns his attention to the New York sign. His head is full of brambles and his heart is like a stone that's been swallowed up by the ocean. He wants to forget everything. He wants to keep traveling through New York and beyond. They could ditch the hostage and forget everything. They could travel up to Canada and start some new life never looking back. It would be very easy to slip away and start somewhere new where no one knew them like when they lived with Zofia. Richard closes his eye. He feels the mare move a little beneath him, shaking her head and feels a cold wind across his face. He opens his eye and looks over his shoulder to the open endless road behind them; snow whipping across it like little waves and it's hard for Richard to get the words out like they're stuck in his throat.

"I want you to go back. Hmph," he gestures to the hostage that's tied up and gagged once more sitting behind Jimmy on his mare. "Hmm. Leave him with me. Just go." Jimmy squints at him, the afternoon sun lighting up his pale features, his pupils tiny and swallowed up in his big blue eyes. "What?" Jimmy barks out in disbelief, his eyes hard. Richard sidles up right along Jimmy, his mare trotting. "I made a promise to hmm Mr. Thompson and I intend on keeping it. I can go the rest of the way myself. Hmph." The two men stare each other down and Jimmy's eyes are impossibly cold like blue steel. Jimmy turns his head and spits on the ground.

He meets Richard's eye a heartbeat later and is face is hard, his body equally as rigid leaning forward in his saddle. "I don't know what kind of promise you made to Nucky but it doesn't matter because I'm not leaving," his eyes challenge Richard and they stare each other down again.

"Jim…"

"Don't start with me," Jimmy snaps, his face reddening with anger. "You didn't kill her. I know you feel guilty but it isn't your fault. If you don't want more lives to be lost then we need to work together. You need me. You can't do this on your own!" he's huffing and puffing, his throat and face flushed but his cheek is twitching and his shoulders are sagging a little as he shifts uncomfortably in the saddle. Richard knows he's tired. He's come to understand Jimmy Darmody and his body language very well like learning a secret language.

Richard shakes his head; it feeling impossibly heavy like it's too much weight for his neck. "Hmph. You don't understand. It's not their lives I'm worried about," he averts his eyes looking behind them again, suddenly very interested with the ground and he feels a little heat rush at his face.

"That's touching and everything but I'm not some pet you need to look after," pure sarcasm dripping from his words. "I'm not like your rifle or your precious dog tags," Jimmy whips them from underneath his jacket. They make a tinkering sound as they bounce off each other. Jimmy's chest is heaving, breathing hard, the vein in his forehead pulsing. "I don't need you to protect me. But if you don't want her death to be in vain then we need to stop wasting time with this hero shit and keep moving," Jimmy squeezes the mare's sides with his legs imitating Richard with a clicking sound to get his mare to move like he's getting the hang of it and then he's trotting past Richard. Richard stares stupidly after him. He urges his own mare to move glancing behind him once more to the road and forest they just traveled. Richard knows he won't be coming back. Jimmy might insist on coming with but Richard is not coming back. One way or the other Richard will get his wish.

* * *

Jimmy had forced enough information out of the somewhat cooperative and somewhat conscious hostage to find out that Ms. Britton and the children are being held in Stanten Island. Jimmy tries to get more information out of the man but he goes unconscious-a product of fear, exhaustion and Jimmy beating the shit out of him any chance he gets. Richard had seen it enough in the war to recognize the signs. Again Richard feels he should intervene, should stop Jimmy as they need the information but Richard's shaken, raked with guilt and his priorities are skewed. He knew damn well what his mission was but after him and Jimmy had crossed a line, getting caught up in something more than just professionalism or friendship, leading the men straight to Zofia and getting her killed the lines got blurred. He couldn't bear the thought of anyone else getting harmed and killed. Jimmy had already gotten shot defending him. He wasn't going to let anyone else take it. It was all his now.

They travel a little further. Jimmy's taking the lead this time even though it irks Richard as the younger man doesn't have the keenest sense of direction and doesn't know where he's going but Richard knows they're close. He grew up in New York and remembered taking the ferry to Stanten Island with his sister and parents when he was younger. Through all this, through the guilt that fogged his brain, the desire to leave Jimmy and go off on his own Richard had almost forgotten he was back in his home territory. The realization stuns him and he falters on the horse. Thankfully she was treading at a slow pace and Richard gains enough wits to right himself in the saddle before he falls out. He knows also that their horses need to rest. They needed to stop and regroup, wait for the hostage to wake up to be able to question him further and cross the Bay to Stanten Island.

The thick smell of salt is on the air as it whips through their hair and his mind drifts to times when his sister and him would wade in to the ocean. The salt was so thick on the air it seemed to crystallize on their lips and eyelashes. They would smile and laugh as they chased the tide. They would clasp hands and hop around on the sand as it sucked at their feet. They would giggle as sand found its way in-between their tiny toes.

"Richie, let's find sand dollars!" Julia was always making up games for them, leading Richard into wherever her playful and creative mind went and Richard always followed. He loved to see her smile. He felt too connected to her not to want to make her happy as she did for him. Richard followed her around dutifully trying to find sand dollars but Julia was better at it than him. She had them piled in her shirt that she used like a pocket. She teased him when Richard only found a couple.  
"You should respect your older brother. You may be quicker but I am older…" She rolls her beautiful brown eyes at him, so much like his. Her black curls bounce around her face as she shakes her head. "By three minutes!" she interrupts. "I'll never let that down," she shoves at him playfully and then they're off to the next game, the next adventure and Richard feels never happier.

His mare troddens over earth where Richard used to live, his stomping grounds, places he used to visit with his family but they were gone too.

_"Richie, we'll always be together. Right? You and me?" _

Richard closes his eye, trying to desperately push out the memories of not coming home after his accident in the war, not coming home to her, his sister and his twin. But he was home now.

_"We were born together does that mean we'll die together too?"  
_  
Richard hid from her, hid from his family after his accident, too afraid of how they would react. He didn't want Julia to cringe, to look upon her twin's face and see a monster, see a character out of the books she always read. He wanted her to see him. He didn't want her pity he wanted her to smile like she always did.

_"We'll always be together. Just you and me."  
_  
He was home and it would stay that way. One way or the other he knew he wasn't going back to New Jersey.  
_I don't think we'll be together much longer…_And he isn't sure if he's directing the thought towards Jimmy or his sister.

He shouts after Jimmy to slow down. Jimmy does after a time still looking petulant and tired. Richard takes the lead. He leads them to a small, nearby wood he had remembered from his youth. It's a place him and Julia may have gone to and played in but he isn't too sure. He pushes thoughts of his sister out of his mind. Jimmy shoots him these looks and although they still look smoldering there's concern and a question there too. Richard hopes Jimmy doesn't ask him how he knows the area so well. He doesn't want to delve into it with him.

The sun is setting, dipping behind heavy clouds bruising the sky with purples and reds. They go as deep in the wood to keep secluded and hidden until Richard is satisfied. They make camp. Their hostage is still tied and gagged as he lies on a blanket, his eyes closed. Richard almost wishes that he wasn't. He wants other sounds besides the shimmering of light snow across the earth by the wind. It makes a curious scurrying sound like blowing salt from across a piece of paper. The bare branches of trees are swaying slightly and rattling against each other. The world is too still in winter Richard thinks and he doesn't want to be alone with him. He wants to go off on his own but he knows he can't until they can question the hostage further.

It's like their roles are reversed and Richard is the one that is fidgety, anxious and can't keep still. He paces their small camp area leaving heavy tracks in the snow and he feels Jimmy's eyes on him like they're boring holes. He feels the weight of his gaze but Richard already feels heavy and saturated like his footfalls are sinking into the frozen ground and with every step he's lowered into his grave. Sometimes he thinks the only reason he keeps breathing is because of the need to kill. It's so strong it almost outweighs the agony of guilt that twists inside him. The two emotions are like two ribbons intertwining and running over everything inside him like a candy stripe. The ribbons pull and constrict everything. He feels like he can't eat or sleep.

"You didn't do this."

He continues to pace and ignores Jimmy's words but his legs get tired after a time and he sits down on the log next to the little fire. Jimmy limps over to him and sits right next to him on the small space, their hips brushing slightly and their long legs almost touching.  
The fire spits and crackles throwing little shadows over everything. The night winter world seems more impossibly quiet and heavy then the day. Jimmy's heavy gaze is still on him and Richard just wants him to stop. Though most of the anger and defiance Jimmy was emanating has subsided he still looks far too curious, full of concern and tired.

"Hmph. I want to tell you a story." This seems to throw Jimmy off a bit, startling him which selfishly is what Richard wanted.  
Jimmy lights a cigarette in preparation for the story and nods at Richard, his eyes too impossibly soft and warm now. Jimmy leans back a little, propping his elbow and resting his cheek into his fist. When Richard sees that he's ready he clears his throat and starts where any story starts: the beginning.

"There was a story my father told me, hmph, once when I was a boy that I still carry around inside me now. Hmm." Smoke and darkness seem to eat up Richard's words and he takes a shaky breath. "There was a man once that lived long ago. Hmph. He was disgusted with the world, hungh, and what it had become. Hmm. He was so tired of it that he took his own life. He jumped from a very high place. Hmph. When he landed, hmm, his body burst into many pieces. His organs scattered, some going great distances because of how high up he was when he jumped. Hungh. It was tough work for the others to gather up his body, hmph, and to bury the man. Hmph. The work was so hard that they gave up and missed one piece of him. Hmm."

Richard pauses to take in Jimmy's reaction. The younger man is blinking widely at him through sleepy eyes, cigarette burning between his pale fingers, his attention totally on Richard. "What did they miss?" Jimmy takes a deep drag, his eyes reflecting firelight. Richard smiles weakly. "His eye. Hmph. They buried him deep in the ground with everything except his one eye. Hungh. The man became a ghost then hmm so consumed by hate with the people he was disgusted with missed his one vital piece. Hmph. The man, the ghost still wanders the earth to this day, hmm, still looking for that final piece and won't give up until he finds it," Richard rubs his hands together and rubs at his arms to try to rid himself of the new chill he feels. Jimmy tosses his cigarette into the fire and eyes Richard. "If he was so disgusted with the world why did he expect others to bury him or even try to find all the pieces of him?"

Richard shrugs, a little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I think the man hated himself truthfully. Hmph. He still needed others. Hmph. Because of that hate he has to walk the earth as a ghost. Hmm."

Jimmy nods sleepily and unexpectedly leans against Richard and rests his head on his shoulder. "You're not a ghost," he winds his hands around Richard's bicep and Richard is almost too stunned to move. "I'll help you find the missing piece," Jimmy yawns. Jimmy is warm against him and Richard's heart throbs uncomfortably, his stomach doing somersaults. He looks at Jimmy but Jimmy's eyes are closed, his pale eyelids fluttering, his body relaxing winded around him. Richard smiles in spite of himself and smoothes some hair out of Jimmy's face. "Hmm. And I don't hate the whole world," he kisses Jimmy's forehead, rests his head against his and blessedly feels sleep tug at him, something he hadn't been able have in quite a while.  
_I still walk this world as a ghost but I don't hate the whole world. Not you_. He falls asleep.

* * *

Jimmy wakes stiff and cold the next morning. His neck and back ache from sleeping on the frosty ground. His bad leg is especially not agreeing with him and he's hungry since they haven't eaten since leaving Zofia's house the morning before. They literally have nothing between the two of them except their guns and the clothes on their back.

_Just like the war.  
_  
Despite everything, the external things weighing him down, internally he's surprisingly calm. He still feels anger towards the hostage and what him and his men did to Zofia and concern towards Richard but it's quieted. Jimmy notices Richard is still sleeping and Jimmy rebuilds the fire. He limps over to the bound hostage. Jimmy had tied him securely to a tree as he lay unconscious. The hostage's head is bowed, his chin almost resting on his chest, eyes closed and Jimmy isn't buying it. He had been around too many enemies faking things in the war to be fooled. Jimmy toes the hostage with his boot. When the hostage doesn't stir he kicks at him hard and the hostage whelps, his head snapping up to meet Jimmy's eyes.

Jimmy crouches down to his level. He removes the gag from the hostage's mouth. Jimmy has his gun out and he plays with it, testing the weight of the Colt in his gloved hand looking about the small wood. The sun is just coming up over the horizon. Jimmy thinks this will be the last sunrise he may have with him and the thought makes him frown. He didn't think they were too far from the ferry that could take them to Stanten Island. Their time was up. He releases a breathy shy. He wants to take care of this before Richard wakes. He didn't want anything else bearing down on the other man's already burdened conscience. Jimmy lights a cigarette and regards the waking world.

"Where are they?" Jimmy doesn't leave any room for question or avoidance in his statement. The hostage was already babbling nonsense, swearing, spitting, bargaining but Jimmy ignored it all. The hostage comes up short at Jimmy's question like it had physically rattled him. Jimmy enjoys his cigarette and waits for the hostage to answer. When Jimmy finally regards him the hostage is struggling pathetically at the restraints shooting Jimmy menacing looks.

"I don't know…"

Jimmy gets right up in his face, crowding his space with a nasty sneer and shoves the barrel of his Colt at the man's crotch. The hostage releases a high pitched wail, sweat beading at his brow.

"I think you do."

The hostage continues to grunt in pain, shaking his head rapidly, avoiding Jimmy's gaze. Jimmy exhales smoke directly into the hostage's face and digs the gun painfully deeper into his balls, thumbing back the hammer.

"I _really_ think you do."

The hostage is sweating profusely now despite the frigid November air. His breath is labored and his eyes are tearing up in pain. He hisses and yelps when Jimmy shoves harder and flicks ash into his face. Jimmy feels his presence at his back. _You bastard you woke him up_. Jimmy wants to punish the hostage for this but he knows Richard doesn't approve of all the methods Jimmy uses for interrogation, mainly taking his anger out on the hostage. Jimmy flicks his cigarette to the snow, stands from his crouched position with his Colt still aimed at the hostage's crotch and Richard is standing next to him. Jimmy can literally feel the rolls of anxiety and stress coming from the other man like he's wearing it on his clothes and the hostage is spilling everything. Richard whips out his moleskine and starts scribbling the information down as the hostage hastily divulges it. Jimmy feels a tiny surge of heat in his system upon seeing the familiar moleskine. He was glad it was something that wasn't lost in the fire.

The hostage produces the exact location, some warehouse on a harbor but not the details of who he works for, who sent him or how many men Richard and Jimmy can expect when they get there. The hostage rests his battered head against the trunk of the tree, licks his cracked, split lips and laughs just like all the other pursuers Jimmy and Richard have encountered. The laugh enrages Jimmy and he feels his resolve snap. He can feel Richard's hefty gaze on him as he rounds on the hostage yelling threats straight in his face, threatening to shoot one of his balls off, bring him back to consciousness and do it to the other. The hostage laughs until he's in too much pain to laugh from the hard strikes he's receiving across the face. It sobers him up quickly.  
The hostage spits blood, staining the white snow and regards Jimmy with bruised eyes.

"Chester Isaiah."

Jimmy furrows his eyebrows and shoots Richard a look. Richard is writing the name down and feels Jimmy's eyes on him. He meets Jimmy's puzzled look and Richard shrugs confirming that both men have no idea who Chester Isaiah is.

When Jimmy questions the hostage further he only tells them that's the man he works for, sends them out and pulls all the strings. As for how many men are guarding the warehouse he swears he has no idea only guessing: "a lot." When Jimmy tries to beat it out of him Richard puts a warm hand on his shoulder to stop him. Jimmy gags the hostage again and the two ex soldiers leave him to consult and plan. Richard is anything but himself. He's on edge and fidgety, his eye darting all around and although Jimmy knows he got some sleep the other man still looks exhausted and haggard.

Jimmy's already tried to tell Richard it wasn't his fault as he knows he's still wrought with grief but Richard doesn't want to hear it or accept it. Richard is looking all around, shifting his weight on the balls of his feet. "Hey," Jimmy says gently trying to get his attention. He places his hand on his arm to soothe him, to let him know he's here in every sense of the term for as long as they still had left but Richard recoils from his touch. He regards Jimmy wide eyed, almost looking shocked that Jimmy would even think of laying a hand on him. Jimmy wants to be impatient and angry with him but finds he can't. He knows Richard isn't himself and he tables it. They have bigger things to deal with then how Richard is feeling. People's lives were still at stake.

Jimmy was more a doer, always going in guns blazing, shooting first and asking questions later where Richard was a thinker, planning and analyzing things with great care which was why he was an excellent sharpshooter and rifleman. You needed to be able to execute great precision and patience. Jimmy looked to Richard to see the smaller details and work the angles but Richard is evasive and Jimmy literally has to force him to cooperate and speak. He's able to get him to focus after a time and they formulate a plan. They'll leave at night to give them the advantage of the dark's camouflage. Jimmy had argued that they could use the hostage as a bargaining chip, to use him to trade for the mistress and children but Richard shoots the idea down saying the hostage isn't important enough to the higher ups or this Chester Isaiah person and that it wouldn't work. Jimmy has to regrettably agree.

Jimmy brings up that they could call Nucky and try to get reinforcements. Have Sheriff Thompson and his police force try to meet them up here. Richard shoots that down too saying it would take them too long and with the snow still covering the roads it would be damn near impossible. They could be too late if they wait any longer. Jimmy can only nod and swallow back the lump forming in his throat.

They both don't say what they're thinking as they really don't know the exact layout of the warehouse where the mistress is being held or surrounding harbor. They really have nothing to plan until they get there. They both don't say what they're thinking because they're thinking they aren't going to make it out alive.

Jimmy tries to get Richard to knock heads with him, to bounce ideas off each other, to pick his brain and see what he thinks about all this, what the true intentions behind the kidnapping are but it's like talking to a brick wall. Richard barely says a word and is unusually pale, his hands trembling slightly as he polishes his Colt rhythmically with his kerchief.

"What?" Jimmy lights a cigarette and is tired of this shit. He's been patient as long as he can. He's tried reasoning with him, consoling him and comforting him and nothing seems to work. Whatever patience Jimmy has is running thin. He rubs at his tired eyes and tries not to focus on his completely empty stomach. He had gotten Richard to agree to hunting when the sun goes down as to not draw suspicion. Jimmy eyes the other man now waiting for a response.

Richard continues to polish his Colt, pretending he hadn't heard Jimmy. Richard has never denied Jimmy anything before and he knows Richard is just avoiding the question by his too tight set jaw and narrowed eye.

"There's something else going on with you. It isn't just about Zofia. It's something else," Jimmy inhales deeply but gets no solace from the nicotine. Jimmy watches Richard closely. The other man is swiping his thumb across the same area on his Colt over and over, not his usual pattern and his jaw is clenched. Jimmy knows his suspicions are correct.

Richard rises abruptly from the log. "It's nothing," and he stalks off, his body shaking slightly, his eye looking agitated and Jimmy definitely knows it's something.

* * *

They hunt at dusk. Jimmy helps any way he can but it's mostly Richard's work. They eat rabbit and drink boiled snow and they've barely uttered two words to each other. Jimmy doesn't want to press it because they still have bigger fish to fry but he still can't help feel flutters of concern for the older man. Jimmy knows it's not something war related as Richard is always open to talking about that. It's something else. This: "nothing".

Jimmy leaves the hostage some food and water. He knows he shouldn't just leave him stranded in the middle of the wood but he feels the hostage is getting what he deserved. Although they wish they could take the hostage with them across the ferry to Stanten Island they can't. It would arouse too much suspicion. If they were traveling by foot they could still easily take him but they were forced to leave him now. The hostage isn't completely stupid. He's seen that they've packed up the horses and he protests, squirming pathetically against the tree and the bindings that still hold him. He yells, swears and calls Jimmy and Richard every name in the book and finally turns to begging and pleading when Jimmy shows no signs of untying him.

Jimmy crouches down to his level and all he sees is a pathetic excuse for a man that's tied up to a tree that took a sweet, old woman's life just because he was following orders. Jimmy spits directly in his face.

"I hope you fucking rot in hell. The only reason why I'm not killing you is because I know my partner over here wouldn't like it," Jimmy shrugs, his eyes narrowed dangerously. He chuckles a little under his breath. "I guess you're lucky that he still has a scrap of a morality in him." The hostage continues to writhe against the tree, pleading and begging, the restraints biting into his flesh. He pulls at them so hard he's drawing blood but Jimmy can't begin to bring himself to care. "I hope your men find you," Jimmy pulls out and holds up the hostage's wallet that he pocketed a while back when he was unconscious. "I'll be sure to leave this where they can find you, make sure they know that you were the one that let us slip away and didn't kill us," Jimmy winks and gets up from his crouched position. If Jimmy couldn't kill him then he would be sure to let the hostage's "comrades" do the honor for him by leaving evidence behind that they were here. The look of pure fear on the hostage's face, all the color drained out is almost enough justice and Jimmy leaves without another word.

The sun is melting away and darkness is creeping up like an old friend. The lack of sun makes it bitterly cold, the still air even colder yet. They put out the fire and ready their meager possessions. Richard checks over his rifle and Jimmy pats at his knife and Colt-the only reassurances he feels he has. They two men share a look as they mount their horses and make their slow decent into hell.

* * *

Richard thinks of all kinds of things, ways that he can ditch Jimmy or lead him in the wrong direction and slip away but he can't think of a good plan as they move through the wood and back out onto the road. Jimmy follows close behind him and Richard doesn't think he can break away from him, take off at a gallop and hope he doesn't catch up. Jimmy could find the ferry and it would only be a matter of time.

They travel a short distance to the docks. They dismount and Richard can't help feel a little pang of loss as they let the mares go as they can't take them with onto the ferry. Richard's silent as Jimmy buys their tickets. Richard stays close behind him and tries to hide his rifle inside his jacket the best he can.

The bay is like a dark mirror. It absorbs the stars and moon into his watery, obsidian realm. The ferry pushes and expels water behind it in great bursts. It rocks and shifts slightly under their feet. Richard tries not to be reminded of the time his family had rode on this same ferry looking out to the bay on a clear day, Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty in their sights. Richard thought it was something out of a fairytale, another game him and his sister were always playing. Richard inhales the sharp smell of the ocean feeling the slight mist of the water on his face.

_"We'll always be together. Just you and me."  
_  
Richard closes his eye and tries not to think of the past he was hurled into, the place where he is now and thinks to his inevitable future. Jimmy is at his side then; a hand protectively at the small of Richard's back but Richard side steps him and moves out of his touch. He tries not to see the slight hurt in Jimmy's eyes and tries hard to not recognize the own hurt in his own heart. Richard can't allow them any more indulgences or else he'll never have the nerve to do what he needs to do.

They move swiftly when they dock, Jimmy doing his best to block people's view of Richard as he conceals his rifle the best he can underneath his coat. Richard reads his notes he took in his moleskine about the location of the warehouse and Richard knows then how he can ditch Jimmy.

The harbor is quite large and Richard spies the warehouses in the distance. They walk until they're around a boat house, away from prying eyes. The harbor isn't too particularly crowded but they need the privacy all the same. The dark water pushes tied boats into the dock, Richard hears the lapping and splashing sounds it makes as it hits wood and he hears the distant sound of boat horns blaring. It's a place he would have liked to visit under normal circumstances but this is anything but normal.

Richard goes over with Jimmy where the warehouse is located but he lies. He tells him the wrong place. They move to get a better position to scope out the area to try to find a place where Richard can position his rifle if necessary. Once they observe the surroundings and warehouse, Richard the right one and Jimmy the wrong one, to the best of their abilities Richard suggests they split up. Richard will take the front and try to take out as many as he can with his rifle from a distance and Jimmy will take the rear with Richard providing backup much the same as how they took out the men in the woods. Richard tries to formulate his own plan as he knows he's doing this on his own. He'll take out as many men as he can before switching to his colt. Richard hopes he'll take care of them all before Jimmy hears the gunfire and tries to intervene or help.

It's hard for Richard to look at him, to lie blatantly to his face but he tells himself he's doing it to protect him. They hash out their plan, it's shoddy at best. Without real knowledge of how many men are in or around the warehouse and where Ms. Britton and the children are being kept it's like they're shooting in the dark which is precisely what they are doing. Jimmy and Richard have the advantage of surprise and the dark to conceal them but the attackers have the advantage of knowing the layout and have more firepower. Richard guestimated that the attackers had a slightly better advantage. Richard tried not to think of how this all would come to a head, how this would all turn out.

_"We were born together does that mean we'll die together too?"_

Richard tries to settle the aching in his chest and the buzzing in his brain. He turns to Jimmy and they exchange curt nods. It was time to go. They move stealthily, hiding behind things and using the night to their advantage just like they're back in the snowy woods of upper New Jersey in the territory of an old Polish woman. They reach the point they agreed on to split ways. Richard says goodbye to Jimmy in his head and tries not to think that this could be the last time they see each other.

They break apart and Jimmy barely takes a couple steps away from him in his crouched position and it's like the heavens have opened up and are raining bullets on them. The wood behind them explodes and splinters. Richard catches some of it biting at the good side of his face. He tastes a little blood in his mouth and both men hit the ground. Jimmy is shouting something to him but Richard's ears are ringing and the bullets are still hailing down at them. He can't make anything out through the chaos.

They crawl pathetically, Richard following Jimmy, to the side of a decrepit building. Bullets whiz past them and explode around them into the dock and water. Richard judges the distance of the bullet's trajectory as they crawl and he knows they're shooting from a faraway distance hence why their aim is off and sloppy. The guns they're using aren't meant for such long distances. They aren't using precision rifles or scopes and for this Richard is glad. They press themselves into the cold brick, backs flat against it, chests heaving. There's a break from the gun fire and Richard scrambles to ready his rifle and sets it up in record time. Jimmy has his own Colt out. Richard sweeps over Jimmy's form quickly and assesses him for injuries, thankful he doesn't see any. Richard knows his expression matches Jimmy's perfectly, a wide eyed: "We didn't expect this. Oh shit" look.

Richard pivots so he's turned towards the edge of the wall and positions his rifle to the direction of the gunfire, it sticking out a little from the wall. It's harder to see in the dark but he remembers waiting for the German sniper for three days and he trained himself to do it in the virtual blackness, having nothing but time. He spies through the scope and finds them after a short time-four armed men at least seventy yards away near the real warehouse. The building the two ex soldiers are using for cover is actually very close to the fake warehouse that Richard told Jimmy was the real one. Richard shoots Jimmy a look and there's concern in the younger man's eyes mixed in with that murderous glint. Jimmy shoots him a: "What are you waiting for?" type look and Richard doesn't need to be told twice. "To dla ciebie Zofia," Richard whispers under his breath as he takes aims, finding the usual spot directly under the eye through the scope and takes out two of the men in less than a minute. He misses the third as he moves out of the way at the last moment. He fires at one of them again, Jimmy joining in but the men are running to gain cover and both ex soldiers miss them.

They pack up and move from their position behind the building. Richard's is on autopilot, slipping back into his identity in the war as a somebody, a man of action and he forgets he's leading them away from the fake warehouse. New gunfire from a different position explodes around them and Jimmy grabs at Richard and pulls him around the side of a warehouse. Richard preps his rifle again looking through the scope to try to find the new attackers. Jimmy finds them first and is shooting. Richard meets his gunfire and they take them out.

The world is blessedly calm for a moment, the stench of gunfire and smoke heavy on the air. Richard readies himself to move again. They need to keep moving but there's a strong arm on his shoulder suddenly, drawing him back.  
"They're shooting at us from the wrong direction. Are you sure you read your notes right? Fuck. I think the hostage was lying to us that bastard. It should be the next warehouse over but they're positioned further away…" Jimmy stops midsentence, apparently catching Richard's look and his mouth becomes a hart, set line. He narrows his eyes dangerously at Richard.

"Which warehouse is it Richard?"

"Hmph. The one right next to this one…"

"Fuck you. You're lying. You were leading us farther away until I stopped you." As if to prove his point bullets explode around them and Richard judges the distance is still far. Richard knows Jimmy isn't stupid and he blames the excess of adrenaline that's running in his system, the old war habits coming back full force for his rash decisions.  
Richard can only shy angrily and he reloads. "Just stay here," he barks out. Jimmy turns him around and they don't have time for this. They needed to keep moving.

"You're not doing this. Did you ever think about what I want you selfish bastard?"

Richard grits his teeth, blood forming and dripping from his half a moustache, dribbling onto his lips.

"It's always been, hmm, about what you want. Hmph. It was all for you. You must know that."

Jimmy's eyes go dark and he lowers them to the ground.

"I know," Jimmy breathes out in a whisper, barely audible from the gunfire around them and Richard is shocked he didn't deny it. He was expecting a cold reproach or accusation, anything but the truth. Richard is stunned.

"You can't…"Jimmy's voice is breaking and pleading like a little boy. Jimmy searches his eyes and they're broken and full of something that neither of them have any right to know. "Don't make me say it, God damnit."

"James…"

"Don't. Make. Me. Say. It…" and Jimmy grabs at Richard's collar rudely and kisses him hard knocking the wind and fight out of Richard. Richard doesn't deserve this. Neither of them do. By all rights they should be dead either in the muddy deep trenches of war or in a blazing house fire. What did they know of love and understanding? Of compromise and sacrifice? Of giving selflessly and often? "We don't know anything," Richard murmurs into Jimmy's hair. "We don't know anything."

"What do you want from me?" Jimmy murmurs against Richard's shirt and why neither of them have let go Richard can't be sure. Richard sighs deeply, stroking the sensitive area of the back of Jimmy's neck. Richard pulls away so he can look Jimmy in the eye properly. Richard smoothes a thumb over Jimmy's fair eyebrow and sighs again, his heart filling up with excruciating pain.

"I don't regret our time together at all. Hmph."

Jimmy throws him a hard look but there's fright there as his eyes are a little wide. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Hmm. It means, James," he dusts a knuckle over his pale cheek affectionately and smiles weakly. "That I don't want anything from you. Hmph. That I was selfish before. Hmph. I was trying to keep you for myself. Hmm. But everything ends and I'm letting you go," he cranes his neck up and his eye fills with the starry sky. He rests his attention back on Jimmy who looks like he shrank from fright and is trembling slightly in his arms. "I'm sorry. I cannot come back with you. Hmph. All things end here." Richard squeezes Jimmy's biceps and releases him. His arms immediately feel empty and thin. Jimmy looks like he may murder him.

"No," it's low and almost like a growl. Jimmy shakes his head bitterly. "You don't get to decide that," his teeth are clenched, the vein in his forehead pulsing. "You don't get to play the martyr here," Jimmy is trembling with anger and Richard can't look at his eyes because they look lost and like they may form with tears at any moment. He also can't touch him anymore or else he'll regret his decision or become to cowardice to do what he needs to do. Richard inches away from him, his heart deflated and Jimmy keeps advancing like they're doing a strange dance.

"I don't care what you want because I need you and you can't sacrifice yourself. You can't die you selfish bastard," Jimmy's voice is strained with emotion and Richard chances looking at him. His face is hard except his eyes which are big and shiny like he's blinking back tears and Richard is transfixed like Jimmy tricked him and Jimmy is suddenly winding his fists into Richard's jacket, pulling him close. "I can't come back with you," Richard repeats but it's harder to say this time with Jimmy so close, his hot breath on his neck making Richard shiver.

"And I said I don't care what you want," Jimmy's lips silence Richard's retort and God damnit James Darmody won't let go like something buried down deep and thick.

"You may not need you but I need you," Jimmy breathes against Richard's ear and when Jimmy rests his face in the crook of Richard's neck Richard feels definite moisture at Jimmy's eyes and it's all too much. Jimmy is still trembling, sniffling now and Richard holds him close and closes his eye. "Ok, ok, ok," he murmurs gently.  
"Hmph. I'm sorry." Richard traces his fingers down Jimmy's spine until he's soothed. Jimmy is like another thread of ribbon dancing and weaving into everything inside Richard through and through. And Jimmy won't let go. _He won't let go._

A close shot ricochets off the brick and it breaks the two men out of their spell. They're back grappling their guns, back to being ruthless killers. Richard quickly explains where the real warehouse is and they try to develop a new plan as Richard is taking aim and shoots two men. They move quickly when there's a break in the gunfire. They move away from the attackers this time and start weaving quickly through the warehouses diagonally . More men present themselves when they're two warehouse away. Jimmy and Richard duck behind a warehouse amongst the hailing bullets.

"You're going to have to cover me," Jimmy is reloading after firing but missing their attackers in the dark. Richard shoots him a look. Jimmy is already positioning himself against the corner of the wall grinning, not giving Richard any choice in the matter. Jimmy was all about going in guns blazing and Richard thinks it may be appropriate right now but he still can't stand to let Jimmy go in alone. He doesn't want to stand back. He wants to protest but they have no time.

Jimmy looks over his shoulder. Men hollering and yelling, bullets ricocheting and bouncing off the warehouse wall and the ground. Jimmy flashes him a look and it massages Richard's heart. "I'm glad I met you at the vet hospital," Richard opens his mouth to protest. This is hardly the time or place. "I'm honored to be at your side right now as your partner," the way Jimmy says "partner" sends a shiver down Richard's spin as he knows it meant as a double meaning. Jimmy smiles a heartbreaking smile that reads too clearly: "If we only we had more time. Goodbye." He launches himself off the wall and Richard is finding the men through his scope, providing backup, protecting the man he's grown to deeply care about. He won't let them hurt him. When the men are taken care of Richard launches himself from the warehouse wall.

_"We were born together does that mean we'll die together too?"  
_  
_I may die and break that promise Julia, Jimmy, Ms. Britton, the children, everyone…_ He didn't want to let them down but he didn't know how they would get out of this alive. Richard switches to his Colt for short range taking out two men. He moves as stealthily as he can, giving himself some distance away from the warehouse where Ms. Britton and the children are being kept. He hears shots fired towards the back of the warehouse and Richard knows it's Jimmy. He's providing the distraction, drawing the men towards the front while Richard will take a position in the front, ready his rifle and will take out as many as he can that Jimmy drives towards him or any through the windows of the warehouse.

Richard rounds a corner and runss smack dab into an assailant hard, sending them both stumbling backwards, Richard's guns flying from his hands. When Richard regains enough wits he wrestles the man against the wall, grunting. Richard is able is twist the man's gun arm up against the wall. The man fires nearly missing Richard's masked side. Richard receives a hard kick to his lower abdomen that sends him backwards a step. Richards reaches for his guns but can't grab them as he's forced to dodge another shot, almost getting him in the head. Richard drops to the ground, sweeps his leg out and kicks at the man's knee hard sending him face first to the ground. Richard reaches his Colt at the same time the man is pointing his gun at Richard but Richard is the first to fire. The man's face explodes into a red, pulpy mess, bone and tissue flying everywhere. Richard scoops up the man's revolver and makes haste to get into position. He hears distant gun fire again and it makes him move that more quickly.

There are loud, raised voices coming from inside the warehouse and outside, seeming to come from everywhere. Richard fights his way using his Colt and then the revolver to save time and not having to reload. There's a pier that runs around the warehouse. The warehouse is the last in the harbor, pushed up against the bay and Richard runs until he's at the very end of the pier, the farthest from the warehouse he can go, water all around them. There isn't a lot of cover and he can hear more men coming but he manages to wedge himself between a small boat that's docked and some barrels. He positions his rifle and he has a clear view inside the warehouse from the glass windows. He sees many men inside some pushing out the back but Jimmy, Ms. Britton and the children are nowhere to be seen. Richard feels something in the pit of his stomach. He concentrates on aiming not wasting time on his usual kill shot. His first shot shatters the glass. He loses count of how many men he drops inside and still Jimmy isn't rushing men out the front, leading them towards Richard and then Richard gets scared.

It's chaos again as a loud explosion rattles the inside of the warehouse. Richard sees flames and smoke rising through the windows and it's like watching Zofia's house burn all over again. Shots are fired at him, his position compromised. He swears under his breath as he's useless to help Jimmy now, the warehouse is in complete disarray and he can't get a clear shot. He shoots his two attackers and he feels a bit like Jimmy going in guns blazing. Men crash through the huge front entrance, smoke and flames right behind them. Richard shoots them, catching them unawares. Richard didn't think he would be entering through the front but then he is. He can barely see for the smoke is thick and blanketing everything. "Jimmy?" he pathetically yells and his voice is swallowed up with gunfire and the roaring flames.

The warehouse is relatively large with only one level but seems to be mostly empty save for some large crates and boxes. Some of the windows to the far side are on fire. Richard hears glass shattering, metal whining and wood breaking as he desperately tries to make sense of the scene. He dodges behind a large crate and takes a man out before he has the chance to fire at him.

Richard hears a woman's scream and it frightens him but relieves him at the same time. At least the woman is alive. He follows the scream until he hears another one followed by the distinct yet distant sound of a baby crying. "Jimmy?" He yells louder but it's no use. The smoke and heat are becoming unbearable, the flames rising ever upward. His eye waters and he covers his mouth with his kerchief and uses it to breathe through. Men are running about, rushing out the back, yelling and hollering out orders, everything in complete disarray. It's hard for Richard to make anything out but he thinks he catches a flash of a skirt and he takes off, guns raised.

He receives a hard blow to the back of his head suddenly and he crumples to the ground face first, momentarily stunning him. He twists his face to the side and meets a menacing figure as he looms over him. The man cracks his knuckles with his gun in his hand. The man points his gun at Richard's head. Richard's trying to grapple with his own gun but his ears are ringing, his head throbbing, his vision swimming and he's too late.

Richard closes his eye, accepting it.

_"We were born together does that mean we'll die together too?"_  
_  
No, it doesn't. I'm sorry. Sorry for everything._  
_  
"We'll always be together. Just you and me."_

_I'm sorry. I failed you_. And he thinks he means it towards everyone.

He hears a shot fired and he anticipates not feeling a thing as the bullet enters his brain and silences all thoughts. But he's still thinking. His finger twitches against the cold ground of the warehouse and he can still hear the fire raging on._ I must be dead._ He chances opening his eye, blinking out smoke and ash. Jimmy is standing above him flashing a strange grin. Blood, ash and soot spattered and smeared all over his coat and face and everything. He reaches out a hand and helps lift Richard up. Richard feels stupefied as he stares at the man that was holding a gun to Richard's head only seconds ago now laying face down in a pool of his own blood. The two ex soldiers exchange a look and Richard wants to grab at him and pull him close but a woman's scream seeming to shake the walls breaks him out of the thought..

The warehouse is being consumed and is breaking apart, metal and wood tearing away like muscle being ripped from a joint and the warehouse is caving in on itself. There's sickening crashes as beams collapse, flames erupting, the smoke invading Richard's lungs and he can't breathe.

"We have to get out!" Jimmy practically screams as another beam crashes to the ground close to them. Richard still hears the screams and shrill cries coming from the other end of the warehouse and the two men exchange a look. They were seeing this to the end. The men manage to push and shove their way through flaming debris. The heat in the warehouse is so intense on Richard's skin and clothes that he feels it's burning him from the inside. It's taking all his strength to move as the smoke is invading every part of him, twisting up his insides and confusing him.

The flames and smoke only gets worse as the approach the back entrance and Richard knows they can't get out this way. Richard trips over something only to hear a high pitched whine. Jimmy is grabbing his hand and suddenly they're upon them. Richard had managed to trip over Mrs. Schroder's son. Richard scoops up his small frail body, his chest moving too fast, his breath coming out in a wheeze. His tiny arms are tied behind his back and his eyes are lolling in the back of his head but he does manage to lock his gaze on Richard. His eyes go wide but then soften as he takes in Richard's appearance, finally remembering him. He coughs and coughs and Richard gives him his kerchief. He's lost Jimmy in the billowing smoke and desperately tries to find him and the rest of them. He yells Jimmy's name but it's so hard, his voice not cooperating. He feels a hand on his back suddenly and whirls around. Jimmy has the girl lying unconscious in his arms and Nan with the baby in her arms is at Jimmy's back.

Richard leads the way and blindly leads them back to the front entrance. Chunks of the ceiling crash to the ground erupting in flames, windows explode and the fire isn't as bad towards the entrance but it's tough going. They barely make it out. When they do the volunteer fire fighters have arrived but the fire is already too aggressive. There's no hope in saving the building. They just needed to stop the fire. Richard sucks in clean air greedily, his lungs burning, his wounds from his face earlier stinging.

Nan Britton is a hysterical mess fussing over her baby saying she wasn't breathing but Richard feels too lightheaded, deep coughs racking his body to do much else. He sits on the ground hard and cradles the boy to his chest. Jimmy is right by his side, his body brushing his and he sits down next to him with the girl in his arms.

They look at each other. An ambulance arrives. He recognizes the car with a bigger passenger section with a cross on the side of it. The nurses in white are on Ms. Britton and her baby immediately, ushering her inside the vehicle. They come back for the boy. The boy in Richard's arms coughs until he dry heaves, rattling Richard.  
Richard hands him over to the nurses and the boy grabs at Richard's hand. "Tinwoodsman," he chokes out before another fit of coughing takes hold of him. Richard can only squeeze his hand before swiftly letting him go. "You're ok now," Richard says to him and he watches as the girl and boy are quickly carried into the back of the hospital vehicle.

He watches as it takes off just as quickly and then it's just the two men sitting next to each other on the grass watching the burning and collapsing warehouse and the men feebly trying to fight it. Richard feels blank like his mind is desperately trying to catch up with what just happened, it all happening so fast. He feels incredibly tired then, too shocked and the adrenaline rush wearing off to feel much else.

Jimmy's fingers find Richard's and Richard turns his gaze to the other man slowly.

"We did it," Jimmy wheezes and Richard can only smile and nod as it's still hard to breathe though the clear air is helping. They watch as the warehouse takes its final blow and collapses completely like a house of cards. Another ambulance comes but Jimmy and Richard wave it off in unison. They only needed the clean air in their lungs, the soft ground underneath them, the weapons concealed inside their jackets and the strength of the other as they continue to sit next to each other, fingers grasped together tightly and they don't let go.

* * *

Jimmy and Richard slip away before the police come and could question them. They found out from the second ambulance that came which hospital the mistress and the children were taken to. The two men support each other until they leave the harbor and get a taxi. Jimmy still can't believe they made it out alive. Richard's slips his fingers into Jimmy's as they sit in the backseat of the cab like he's letting him know he's still there. Jimmy feels his body react to the gesture, filling him up with warmth. He looks to Richard and gives him a little smile. It's a constant reminder that they were still alive.

He calls Nucky once they're at the train station telling him that everyone is ok though the baby is questionable as he's not sure if they were able to revive her. Nucky almost doesn't hear that as he's overjoyed almost gasping into the phone once he hears the news like he wasn't able to breathe this whole time the children were gone. Jimmy hears the Irish maiden crying in relief in the background and Nucky is already telling her to pack up as they were going to leave to go the hospital. "James. I want to thank you for what you did. What you and your friend did. There are no words. Margaret couldn't sleep the entire time. You didn't just save them you saved us too," and Nucky hangs up at that. Jimmy can't feel better about himself or their relationship after Nucky's praise as he wasn't saving the mistress and children for him. He had his own son and although he couldn't say he particularly cared about the Irish woman, Nucky's latest whore or the President's mistress he cared that children were involved.

The two men are exhausted as they board their train. Though they had tried to clean up a bit in the train station restroom they still get queer looks from everyone from their filthy, bloody and scorched appearances. He sits next to Richard and he watches scenery whiz past like blobs of dark and light smearing the landscape. He finds his eyelids are drooping as the train is moving rhythmically making the same clacking noises underneath them and it's like when they were on a dark train going to nowhere except it isn't nowhere this time. It's home. Richard is still looking out their window and he places a gentle hand on Jimmy's knee. He meets Jimmy's eyes slowly.

"This used to be my home but hmm not anymore. I think I've realized it's the furthest thing from it now. Hmm."

Jimmy smiles and nods at him sleepily. He wants to kiss him, has wanted to kiss him since he stumbled upon him and knew he was alive in the burning warehouse after Jimmy had shot a barrel of oil by the back entrance thinking it would create a small distraction and force everyone out the front where Richard would be waiting for them. He didn't know the fire would escalate that quickly. He would think about it more, his mistakes he made but he rather focus on right now and how much he wants to kiss him but can't. Jimmy usually throws caution to the wind but they were in public and there had to be ground rules. He settles on resting his head on the other man's shoulder, feeling his warmth and the rhythmic movements of the train and he drifts off into a blissful sleep.

* * *

They're back in Atlantic City and as happy as Jimmy feels to be home he also feels strange like it isn't right somehow. The two ex soldiers turned bodyguards and assassins stand next to each other in the almost deserted train station as it's either very late or very early.

Their eyes meet after a time and this is where they part ways. It's a stabbing realization to Jimmy's insides, something that they both were regretting, fearing but yet anticipating. Richard may have wanted to go off on his own, leave Jimmy to pursue the mission by himself, pushing Jimmy away but it wasn't because Richard didn't care Jimmy knows. It's different now. When they first started this Jimmy assumed they would go back to their respective lives, sweeping everything under the rug but as he gazes into Richard's warm, brown eye he knows they both can't do that now. They had seen and been through too much. Whatever started from their mission together has carried over to whatever this was, spilling over to their far from normal lives. Jimmy can't stand the thought of going home to Angela though he did miss Tommy horribly but he knew he had to until they both could figure out where they go from here.

The two men gaze at each other and to passerbys it must look strange. Jimmy smiles and shrugs a little, his face getting hot. He doesn't know what to say. What do you say to someone after you've been through what they've been through? "It's just you and me," Jimmy says shakily looking down to his filthy blood stained boots.

Richard closes the distance between them suddenly making Jimmy's breathe catch in his throat. Richard is on him then, winding his strong arms around Jimmy's waist and kisses him in the middle of the train station hard enough to push all the oxygen out of Jimmy's lungs. Jimmy blushes furiously, hoping no one has seen but can't help but smile. Richard smoothes a thumb over the corner of Jimmy's mouth, his secret little affection only reserved for him Jimmy knows and smiles. "It's just us," Richard says. Jimmy smiles. He knows they'll figure it out. They were better together than apart both professionally and otherwise as their time together has proven. Through heartache and difficulty and probably many mistakes they would make it making it that much sweeter, making it worth it.

* * *

Epilogue

James Cox, President Warren Harding's running mate in the election, was found to be behind the kidnapping. Nucky and Sheriff Thompson were able to get the information out of the mistress after her brief hospital stay.

She overheard things being said as they were held in the warehouse. Things about them wanting President Harding to look bad, hearing rumors that Nucky Thompson was helping President Harding by hiding the mistress. The mistress was able to piece together all the clues as she really had nothing else to do with her time being held hostage except cradle he child and fear for her and the children's lives. She supposed they were trying to make Nucky look bad as well or were planning to use the children as ransom as well.

There were internal arguments about how to handle things the mistress overheard too. She thought that Mr. Cox was having second thoughts about using people for ransom but Chester Isaiah, the man that worked for Mr. Cox and the one that orchestrated the kidnapping and hunting Jimmy and Richard down was insistent saying, almost telling Mr. Cox what to do saying it would be to Mr. Cox's advantage to use the mistress and the child as barraging chips to make President Harding look bad and eventually shaming him enough to leave office.

James Cox held somewhat of a personal grudge as they both were from Ohio and both worked for different newspapers. It made sense to everyone in Nucky's circle that he was the behind it though nothing could be traced back to him just like any good, clever, rich tycoon that surrounded himself with lots of important, rich people. Basically Nucky himself in a nutshell Jimmy thought. Both him and Mr. Cox were the same really-people did their bidding and their dirty work and nothing could be traced back to them, too many middle men involved.

Nan's daughter lived though was hospitalized for a few days. The Irish woman's children had recovered as well after receiving oxygen and medicine. They were all a little mal nourished, dehydrated and were exhausted but otherwise were fine saying they weren't mistreated besides being restrained and sometimes gagged.

And that left the two heroes. They were showered with thanks, praise and affections but neither wanted them or needed them. All they wanted to do was slip away and be alone together, to have what they really wanted. The Irish woman and the mistress invited Jimmy over for dinner, insisting that he should come and he only did because Richard was still living with them but they couldn't be alone.

Jimmy didn't know what to tell Angela about his absence so he didn't tell her anything leaving it at that. He went back to having his nightmares she told him and Jimmy selfishly knew how to rectify them.  
A week passed and things settled down. People weren't constantly asking Jimmy to divulge the story to them or were constantly wanting his attention. He for once might be able to do what he wanted. He's at the Irish woman's house before he knows it, having walked all the way from his apartment. The sky is black rippling velvet and a million stars are out.

Though Jimmy knows the late November air is cold he doesn't feel it. He feels anything but cold. He sits on the porch step and lights a cigarette. He feels his presence behind him and they haven't been alone together since the train station. Jimmy's heart thuds almost painfully in his chest. Richard sits down on the step next to him and eyes him.

"Take a walk with me?" Jimmy ask and he knows that the woman and children are asleep. Richard wouldn't be missed until morning. They had all night. Jimmy grins.

They walk the beach, the dark, almost silent ocean to their backs, their fingers twined together. Jimmy thinks he can finally do right by someone. He may not know where his future is headed, if he'll join Sheriff Thompson and his father in their plans to overthrow Nucky or not or where he'll end up living tomorrow as him and Angela were just not working out. He didn't have to worry about it with his hand in his as they work the cold beach. He could do right by Richard.

They would continue to work together side by side maybe even hunting down the man Chester Isaiah who was behind the plot to take the mistress and children and eventually sending the men that would take Zofia's life. Justice would have to be served. They'll work together and keep the other things between them a secret, something only they know about. They would have to work hard at it but it was worth it. Richard smiles at him suddenly like he knows Jimmy is thinking about him. Jimmy cups his face drawing him into a kiss as the sun is just coming up and glinting off the once dark waves and the dog tags that are around Jimmy's neck-Richard and his own that he found in his apartment. They bounce off each other and lay on top of each other. The two men stay like this while the sun rises casting everything in a golden haze, bathing Richard in beautiful new light and Jimmy thinks he can definitely get used to this. _He's worth it._

* * *

**The story Richard tells Jimmy is actually not original. It's a play on something I read in the manga: "Neon Genesis Campus Apocalypse". The story in it is very similar about the man losing everything and people gathering it up except one piece and he walks the world as a ghost but I changed the details a little bit. I thought it was appropriate for Richard :)**

**Though most of this story is historically accurate and also James Cox is a real figure I did make up the character "Chester Isiah". I also left things open ended with Richard about his past on purpose. This all could lead to possible other fics in terms of sequels...not sure at this point as I have many other writing commitments. Stay tuned though. Thanks for reading.**


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